


Heaven on Their Minds, Arc 3

by shadowsong26



Series: Heaven on Their Minds [3]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: AU, Gen, M/M, Multi, Prominently features an OC, Sequel, season 7 fic, season 8 fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-09
Updated: 2015-12-28
Packaged: 2018-04-25 15:39:55
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 24
Words: 30,280
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4966627
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shadowsong26/pseuds/shadowsong26
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Gabriel is struggling to control the chaos in Heaven in the wake of Castiel’s destruction. Meanwhile, with Castiel gone, his wall gone, Lucifer and Leviathan everywhere, Sam gets closer to Judas. After all, no one knows psychic pain, and guilt, and the long, hard road to redemption, better than the two of them.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Part 8: Won't You Smile at Me?, Chapter 1: Norway, Above the Arctic Circle

**Author's Note:**

> This is what I'm going to call, for lack of a better term, an In Spite of a Nail AU, breaking off at _Abandon All Hope._ Basically, the major arc is largely the same, but several details change. This arc covers events primarily during Season 7 and the first third of Season 8.
> 
>  **Special Note:** Certain timeline information revealed as of the S10 finale sort of jossed some background I established back in Arc 2. While I will not be retconning, exactly, or going back and rewriting the relevant scene, I have made an attempt to reconcile that discrepancy going forward.

**_Part 8: Won't You Smile at Me?_ **

 

**Chapter 1**

_Norway, Above the Arctic Circle_

 

It took Gabriel several weeks to work his way back out of Faerie. He reached out, once every day or so, trying to make contact with Judas, or Dean, or Kali, or Sam, or one of his surviving siblings.

All he ever got was static.

As soon as he was back on Earth, he was hit with a tidal wave of panicked grief from what was left of the Host. From what little Gabriel could actually put together from the flailing, it seemed that what he’d picked up from Faerie hadn’t been distorted by much--Castiel had killed Raphael, slaughtered half of Heaven, declared himself the new God, and then vanished.

Which probably meant that command of the Host would now fall to Gabriel, as soon as he made his way back home.

First, though, he wanted to check in with Judas. Not because he wanted to avoid that inevitable command as long as he could, or anything like that. And _definitely_ not because the idea of returning to Heaven after yet another bloody civil war horrified him. Because if the past few years had taught him anything, it was that running away from his problems didn't solve anything, and usually made things worse in the long run. So the things he wanted to avoid didn't even enter into his decision-making process. Not at all. Not even a little.

No, he needed to touch base with Judas first because the kid was probably past frantic and starting to teeter into self-destructive panic. Chances were, Gabriel would have to talk him down off the ledge again. And Judas had--Dad and his vessel aside--been the only entity in the world who had known _all_ of Gabriel for way too long to leave him hanging. Especially since, once he went home, it’d probably be ages before he could break away again. That was all it was. Not avoidance, just a slight rearranging of priorities. He'd return to Heaven after, and do whatever he had to then.

And, sure enough, when he landed back at the Norway safehouse where he'd stashed his kid, Gabriel found Judas perched by a window, watching the sky with that particular set to his shoulders that meant he was scared, verging on desperate.

"Hey, kiddo," he said. "How's it going?"

Judas jumped and turned from the window. "You're alive," he said, visibly relaxing.

"Did you really doubt me?" Gabriel asked, pulling a chair out of thin air and flopping into it.

He shivered. "Heaven was screaming, and there was no word from you for weeks. I was worried."

Well, the kid couldn't lie outright, but judging by his body language, he could sure as hell manage an understatement. And given what little he’d managed to pick up through the static…

"So now you know how I felt when you stopped returning my calls for over a year," he said, before he could stop himself. He winced internally, not needing Judas' wounded look to know that was a low blow.

"Is that why you stayed away?" Judas asked quietly.

"Of course not," Gabriel said. "I was stuck in Faerie. I kept _trying,_ I just couldn't get through."

He flinched a little, and leaned against the window. "Of course. I'm sorry."

"Yeah, me too," Gabriel said. Because that hadn’t exactly been fair--lashing out at Judas to avoid listening to the chaos on Angel Radio and actually thinking about everything—every _one_ \--he’d just lost, and...

He closed his eyes, shoving those thoughts aside as hard as he could. _Not yet. Not yet. I can’t deal with it yet._

They sat in silence for a minute, then Judas broke it. "So, you were in Faerie?"

"Yeah," he said, latching on to the tangent with more relief than he liked to admit. "Cas has more of a sense of poetry than I thought, even out of his mind and inches from exploding."

He nodded. "...I think that should be 'had,'" he said.

_So much for that._ Gabriel looked away, but nodded. "Yeah. That's what I hear." He shifted uneasily. Not that having Cas out of play, after what he’d done, wasn’t...he just…

How many more freaking brothers was he expected to cope with losing? ‘Cause he was pretty damn sure he couldn’t take much more of this.

"You know what happened?” he finally asked, shaking his head a little to clear it and turning the volume down on Angel Radio yet again. “Checked in with Sam and Dean, or...?"

"Not Sam and Dean," he said, "and I haven't been able to make contact with Bobby or Ellen, either, but Jane checked in yesterday."

"What does she know?"

"When Castiel disappeared, people started running into new monsters," Judas said. "They can shape-shift, they bleed black, and they eat _everything._ I put feelers out to Hathor and the others, to see if they know anything, but no one’s been able to tell me much of anything yet."

"They sound charming," Gabriel said dryly.

"Anything you recognize?"

He tilted his head, considering. "Sort of? Nothing I've _met,_ but I feel like that should add up to something.” Although, what Judas described _did_ sort of sound like Leviathan, but Gabriel was pretty sure Dad had wiped them out forever ago. On the other hand, the last time he’d seen or heard anything about them _had_ been around the time Purgatory was created...

Which, as his vessel pointed out, probably meant Very Bad News.

On the _other_ other hand, Eve had been active not too long ago. Maybe this was another something new of hers that just had a weird incubation period or something.

Still Very Bad News, but slightly less Very Bad than the alternative.

Either way, better not to bring up pre-anything-but-Archangel nigh-unkillable monsters until he knew for sure that was what Earth was dealing with. Especially since something new was at least as likely. Besides, Judas was freaked out enough as it was. He didn’t want to make things worse. "I'll try and poke around a bit on my way back to Heaven," he continued. "See what I can find out, if they’re something new from Eve or something I’ve forgotten."

Judas nodded, but he still looked worried. "Be careful, Abba, please? Whatever these things are..."

_Case in point._

He made a face. "You worry too much."

"I think I worry exactly enough," he replied.

Gabriel waved a hand dismissively, but didn't push the point. He and Judas had this argument, in one direction or the other, at least once a decade. And, given the way the past couple years had treated Judas, it was probably his turn. _Hopefully_ his turn. Because he couldn’t take much more of _that,_ either.

Instead, he said, "Look, you should stay here, sift through intel with our pagan friends and keep me posted. 'Cause once I...once I get back home, I'm gonna have a lot of crap to sort through. I won't be able to do much down here."

"Of course." He hesitated a moment, then asked, "Could you actually drop me off back in the States instead? I should probably coordinate with Bobby and the Winchesters, too, and it'll be easier to do it from there."

Gabriel sighed. "You'd be safer here," he pointed out.

"And I'd be more useful there," his son replied. "Besides, I want to see them. They were probably right at ground zero, when..."

He considered that for a moment, trying to gauge his chances of convincing Judas he should stay here, or of successfully locking him up in a pocket dimension for a while. He'd done that for a century or two before, back when Judas had been even _more_ of a self-destructive dumbass. And given the number of times Judas had been kidnapped or otherwise disappeared over the last three years, it was a _very_ attractive thought.

But Judas would be pissed if he did that, and he _did_ have a point about his relative usefulness.

He shook his head, conceding defeat. "Fine, I'll take you there. But be _careful,_ okay? I don't want to find out you got captured again."

"I will," Judas promised.

That decided, Gabriel put a hand on his son’s shoulder and whisked him away, leaving him on the edge of Sioux Falls. “I’ll be in touch,” he said. “At least once a week.”

Judas nodded. “I’ll make sure to find time to dream.”

“Good. And, if you need me…”

“I’ll pray,” he promised. “Be safe, Abba.”

“You, too,” he said, then waved once, before taking a deep breath to brace himself as best he could, spreading his wings, and flying home.


	2. Part 8, Chapter 2: Sioux Falls, South Dakota

**Chapter 2**

_Sioux Falls, South Dakota_

 

After waiting a few weeks, so he could be reasonably sure it wasn’t being watched anymore, Bobby headed back to the salvage yard to see what he could dig up out of the rubble. He’d stashed copies of all his books everywhere--not that he expected any of them to have survived the fire, anyway--but there were a few weapons and such that might still be intact and would be a pain in the ass to replace.

He’d just finished parking, about a half mile away--it’d be a hell of a lot easier to sneak up discreetly on foot, if the place _was_ still being watched--when his phone rang.

He checked to see who was calling--not one of the boys, so Sam hadn’t run off again, at least; not any of the other contacts he had saved, either. He was careful as hell with this number, so, most likely, that meant someone had a new phone and was letting him know.

“Yeah?”

“Oh, thank God,” a familiar voice breathed on the other end.

“Judas?” Bobby blinked. He sure as hell wasn’t expecting any contact from the Weapon. They hadn’t heard from him--or Gabriel--since the blow-up over Raphael’s poison, and that had been--well, it _felt_ like forever, anyway, even if it had only a couple months in reality.

“Yes, it’s me,” he said. “I...I’m sorry I haven’t been in contact, Abba had me in a safehouse and I...I got here and, and I saw the house, and I thought…”

“None of us were inside when it went up,” he assured him. “You still in the yard?”

“Yes.”

“Stay put, I’ll find you,” he said.

“Of course,” Judas said. “I’m...I’m very glad you’re alive, Bobby.”

“Likewise,” he said. “See you in a couple minutes.”

Bobby hung up and collected everything he’d need to make sure Judas was who he said he was--silver knife, holy water. They didn’t have a way to test against Leviathan yet, unfortunately, and he didn’t have any holy oil to light, or any other way to check for angelic possession, but what he had would have to do.

Judas was waiting for him, next to the car Dean had crushed that one Leviathan with. He went through the tests without complaint--and, even though he didn’t insist on it, Bobby did the same for himself.

That out of the way, Bobby said, “What the hell happened?”

“I was going to ask you the same thing,” Judas said.

“I more meant after…”

“Ah,” Judas said. “Abba took me to one of his safehouses and left me there. My phone got left behind where Raphael was keeping me, so I didn’t have...I couldn’t reach out to you. I’m sorry. I should have found a way.”

Bobby shook his head. “Don’t worry about it, it happens. But you’re okay now?”

“The poison is gone, and C--the damage was healed,” Judas assured him.

“Yeah,” Bobby said, wincing a little at the slip.

“Is he really dead?” he asked.

“Yeah,” Bobby said again.

Judas was quiet for a moment, his head bowed, then asked, “What happened?”

Bobby filled him in as best he could, about the Leviathan riding Cas out of Purgatory, and destroying his vessel, and spilling out into the reservoir, and then…

“They started staking out hospitals and eating folk a day or so after that,” he finished. “They came here, burned the house down. Dean crushed one of ‘em with a car, but we don’t know for sure that killed him.”

Judas nodded. “Leviathan...I’ll ask Abba next time I dream, see if he can give me any more detail.”

“He give you much so far?”

He shook his head. “The information I was able to give him wasn’t complete--creatures that shape-shift, bleed black, and eat everything. My other contacts seem to think they’re very organized, and fairly disciplined within the ranks. They don’t seem to faction the way angels and demons do.”

Not that playing factions against one another had ever really worked in their favor before, at least not long-term, but it was still a nice weakness in concept, at least. “Your contacts being gods?”

“Mostly,” Judas said. “And my cousin.”

“What about the angels? Can they help?”

He flinched, and dropped his eyes. “I...I don’t know. I think it depends on how...how quickly Abba can…” He shivered slightly. “Heaven hasn’t stopped screaming since…”

Right. Raphael dying would’ve been one hell of a blow. “How’s your dad taking it?”

“Not as well as he wants me to think,” Judas said, “but better than I’d feared. Especially when he was out of contact for weeks.”

“You know what the hell happened there?”

“He said he was trapped in Faerie. Communication from some of those realms can be difficult, even for an Archangel.”

Something to keep in mind, if they ever ran into more fairies. Or got trapped somewhere like that. “But he knows about Raphael?”

Judas nodded. “Even there, he would have felt him die. And the others.”

“Others?” Judas probably meant all the people Cas had killed as God, but…

“Castiel...Castiel slaughtered Raphael’s followers, before he began his purge on Earth. Thousands of angels died,” the Weapon said quietly.

“ _Balls._ ”

Judas cleared his throat after a brief silence. “So, as I’m sure you can imagine, Heaven is in chaos. It will take Abba some time to straighten things out. But I’ll ask if he knows of anything we can do from here, to at a minimum bind or injure a Leviathan.”

“How far have they spread, do you know?” Most of his network was in the continental US, but obviously Judas had friends elsewhere. Something like this, pooling as much intel as they could would only help.

“Globally,” he said, just like Bobby had suspected. “At least according to what my pagan friends have been able to tell me. There are at least one or two confirmed sightings on every continent, though they do seem primarily concentrated in the States. My guess is their leadership is here.”

Bobby nodded. “Got it. We’ll keep an eye out.”

“I will, too,” he promised. “And anything my contacts pick up, I’ll forward on to you. You might have a better judge of what’s relevant than I can.”

“Right.”

Judas paused for a moment. “How are...how are you doing? All of you? Dean must be...I know how close he and Castiel were.”

“Yeah,” Bobby said. “From what I can tell, he’s pretty damn shattered inside, for all he keeps insisting he’s fine.”

“I can only imagine,” he said softly. “I wish there was something I could do for him.”

“Yeah,” he said again. “He’s holding together okay, at least on the surface. Enough to keep working, enough to keep going. Hopefully, time’ll help.” _Even that probably won’t help much, but it’s about the only thing that will. Other than the rest of us just being there for him, if he ever decides to open up._

He nodded. “And what about you?”

“Me?” Bobby let out a breath. He’d been wrapped up enough in the boys, and in working on the Leviathan problem, that he hadn’t stopped to think about it much. Which, he supposed, was a slightly less self-destructive version of how Dean was coping with everything. “Can’t say I’m dancing on air or nothing, but...I’m doing okay, considering. Holding together, getting by.”

Judas nodded again. “I’m sorry about your home.”

“I’ve had worse losses,” he said frankly. True, it was decades of work and safety and memories, all gone up in smoke, but…

His house could be replaced, and some of his books. He had copies of everything that couldn’t, because he prided himself on being a paranoid bastard. And, most importantly, he and Sam and Dean had come out alive, if not _okay_. His house could be replaced. His boys couldn’t. And he’d lost enough people over the years to take what he had lost more or less in stride. Especially so soon after Rufus…

He had his boys. He didn’t need his house. Even if something deep inside him ached like hell, seeing the charred shell of his home.

“Once we gank the sumbitches that did this, I’ll rebuild,” he said.

“Do you have...do you have somewhere to stay?” Judas asked. “Abba has a couple safehouses in this hemisphere, and I know he wouldn’t mind if I brought you to one.”

That brought Bobby up short a little bit--he sure as hell hadn’t expected an offer like that. Not from Judas, who’d lost his own entire life not all that long ago, and had barely had a chance to catch his breath since, let alone rebuild. “I...thanks, but we’ve got a place. Friend of mine had a cabin up on Montana.” But even if he had to turn the Weapon down, he appreciated the offer. And more than appreciated the sentiment behind it.

He nodded again, and bowed his head. “All right. But let me know if you change your mind--or if there’s anything else I can do, please, don’t hesitate to ask. I owe you so much--and even if I didn’t, you’re my friend.”

Bobby nodded. “Thanks. But I think, for now at least, we gotta focus on bringing the Leviathan down--sending ‘em back to Purgatory--something.”

“Of course,” he said. “And, like I said, any information I have, from whatever source, I’ll share with you.”

“I’ll do the same,” Bobby promised, then paused a minute. They’d talked about pretty much everything important, except…

“Is something wrong?” Judas asked.

 _Balls._ Bobby really hated having to be the one to tell Judas about the mess Sam was in. It had been hard enough filling Ellen in, and Judas was...just remembering his reaction to Sam coming back…

No real help for it. Someone had to tell him. “There’s a...thing going on, with Sam.”

The Weapon paled just a bit. “What kind of thing?”

“How much did the boys tell you, about the mess with his soul?”

“Not much,” Judas said. “I don’t...I spoke to Sam a few times, before Raphael took me, but he said he couldn’t...he told me about the wall Death built.”

“Yeah,” Bobby said. “Cas...when Cas went off the rails, he...he wanted to keep us out of play. And he figured the best way to do that was...”

“Oh, God.”

“He broke Sam’s wall,” he finished, figuring Judas needed to hear the words out loud. God knew he would’ve, if he hadn’t been there to see it happen.

“God,” he whispered, and shivered a little. “How...how bad…?”

“Bad,” Bobby said. “He seems to have some kinda lid on it for now, or at least he hasn’t done worse than check out and listen to things that ain’t real for the past few weeks, but…” He trailed off, not wanting to have to tell Judas any more details, about the poor kid thinking he was back in the damn Cage, and firing at nothing--firing at _Dean_ \--in that warehouse.

“But,” Judas echoed softly, and it wasn’t a question.

Bobby let that hang in the air for a second, then asked, “I don’t suppose you could…?”

“Fix this?” He shook his head. “No. No, something this...something like this is well beyond my capabilities. I don’t think even…” He trailed off, sagging against the car, his pupils dilating to almost completely black out his iris.

 _Balls._ Of all the crap timing for one of his echoes to hit…

It passed after a few seconds, like they always did. Judas’ eyes returned to normal, but he remained slumped over, trying to catch his breath.

“You okay?” Bobby asked.

“Fine,” he said, after blinking several times and shaking his head to clear it.

“All right,” he said.

“I...I’m sorry, I think I lost...what was I saying?”

“Don’t worry about it,” Bobby said. “I think you finished the thought.” Or the important part of it, anyway. There wasn’t much use poking at it and upsetting him more.

Judas looked a little uncertain, but he finally nodded. “All right, if you’re sure. I’ll...I’ll do what I can, on all of it. No promises.”

“No promises,” Bobby agreed. “We’ll be in touch?”

“Of course.” He managed a shaky little smile. “It’s...it’s good seeing you again. I wish I could be more help. And I’m very glad you’re alive.”

“Yeah,” he said. “I’ll see you when I see you, okay?”

Judas nodded, then took a breath to steady himself once more and slipped off, leaving Bobby to dig through the rubble of his home and salvage whatever he could.


	3. Part 8, Chapter 3: Spokane, Washington

**Chapter 3**

_Spokane, Washington_

 

Sam had gotten a message from Judas, not long after he’d handled the problem with Amy. Bobby had updated the Weapon on everything, which of course had included… _everything._

But Judas had said, in his message, that he thought he might be able to help, and, once Sam was sure it was real, he had to try it. He had things under control, at least for the moment, but there was a difference between control and _help._

Not that he really thought there was any chance Judas could _fix_ things for him, but any relief had to be worth trying.

So, after responding to Judas and setting a time to meet, Sam left a much more detailed note for Dean and snuck out for the second time that week. By sheer coincidence, Judas was staying in the same motel, so he wouldn’t have to take the car. He might actually be back before Dean even noticed he was gone, but...probably better to leave the note and not freak him out again.

Judas answered his knock immediately. His hair was loose to his shoulders, and his scar was covered, as always. He looked...he looked good, a lot better than Sam had expected.

“Hey,” he said, hesitating for a breath before offering a hug. Behind him, he could practically hear Lucifer rolling his eyes, but at least _that_ was easy to ignore.

The Weapon smiled and accepted the hug, brief and warm, before stepping aside to let him in. “It’s good to see you, Sam,” he said softly.

“You, too,” he replied, with a smile of his own.

Judas closed the door behind him. “I...I wanted to...I never got the chance to thank you, and Dean, for saving me.”

Sam blinked, then flushed a little. “I, uh, I wish I could say we did it on purpose, but…”

“Whether or not you planned it, you still saved me,” Judas said. “And...you stayed with me, while I was…”

“Uh. You’re welcome?”

“You really are awful at this,” Lucifer commented without looking up from a notebook Judas had left open on the bed. “I mean, granted, _he’s_ not much better, putting all this faith in you and what have you done to deserve it? Not like you ever _actually_ tried to help him--even when _I_ had him, you had to wait for Gabriel to bribe you to do anything about it.”

Sam squeezed his hand, and Lucifer vanished.

Something he couldn’t quite read flickered in Judas’ eyes.

“Sorry,” Sam said.

“Don’t be,” he replied. “I...how bad is it?”

“I…” He trailed off. _Worse than I could possibly say._

Judas nodded, clearly grasping what Sam couldn’t quite say out loud. “Well, I...like I told you, I think I can...or, well, I had an idea, I remembered something--it’s _possible_ I can help.”

“Yeah?” He traced the scar with his opposite thumb--Lucifer hadn’t reappeared yet, so he didn’t need to push it again, but he wanted to be ready for when he did.

“When Raphael held me,” he started, “when Raphael...he had questions for me, mostly about Eve. But he didn’t have much of a window to speak to me, and...my echoes seem to have poor timing.”

“Okay?” Sam asked, when Judas paused for a moment.

“Sorry, I’m...it’s difficult to describe.” He paused again, then went on. “He...did something, built some sort of...some sort of barrier, or...or buffer might be a better word, between me and my psychic pain. So it wouldn’t get in his way.”

Sam’s heart leapt into his throat. If there was anything that even came close to what was going on in his brain, the backlash Judas was living with might be it. And if whatever Raphael did had made a difference, and if Judas could replicate it, which--he’d saved Jo, he’d fixed Bobby, and he’d come to Sam with the offer.

For the first time since he’d woken up in the panic room to find the note and the gun Dean had left for him, Sam felt a real burst of hope. "So...so, this buffer, it actually...it really worked?"

"It did for me," Judas said. "Of course, it didn't last. It was gone by the time I woke up in Abba's safehouse in Norway, which was...I think three days after you and Dean rescued me? No more than a week since Raphael had done it, I’m certain."

Sam nodded. It wasn't all _that_ much, but...a week, or even just three days, could still mean a lot. Even if it didn't totally banish Lucifer, making him easier to ignore for that long was... "How did it work?"

He considered for a minute. "It was like...it was like the volume was turned all the way down. Or...I guess almost more like I was underwater? I could still feel and see everything, but it wasn't...it was quieter. The echoes didn't _stop,_ I was still aware of them, but they didn't hit me quite as hard. I didn’t completely shut down for a few seconds, just...wavered a little."

Sam nodded. "That’s...that would be...can we try it?"

Judas hesitated. "Before we go any farther, I have to point out that...I mean, I wouldn’t have contacted you about this at all if I didn’t think it was possible. It is. But, at the same time, I don’t...I don’t want to give you false hope. And the truth is...the truth is, while I _did_ see what Raphael did, and I _can_ replicate what I saw, I was in a great deal of pain when he put the buffer in place. I may have missed something, potentially something critical. And, on top of that, I'm not exactly Heaven's greatest healer. Even if I _do_ remember everything he did, and repeat it exactly, I may not have the power to...I may not be strong enough for this to work properly."

He nodded, not really surprised, but not all that discouraged either. All disclaimers aside, if Judas said it was possible to pull it off, it was.

Of course, while they were talking downsides, there was another risk. "If it fails, will it do more damage?"

He shook his head. "No, it shouldn't."

Sam glanced over at the slight distortion in the air that meant Lucifer was about to return, and took a deep breath. "Then let's try it. I want to try it."

Judas nodded and rested his hand against Sam's head.

It _did_ feel like plunging into water-- _boiling_ water, nothing cool and calm like Judas had implied. The room wavered for half a second, and Lucifer reappeared in the corner, once again bright and clear. He was concentrating, _resisting,_ and the water around them got hotter and hotter, and felt _thick._ After an endless moment, it finally sprang up around the Archangel, forming a thick glass box, keeping him trapped.

He glowered at Sam, mouthed something unprintable and flipped him off, then started testing the glass for weak points. And he would find them, eventually--even if Judas hadn’t warned him, Sam would have known it. The buffer was like a painkiller. It didn’t do anything for the underlying cause, just minimized the symptoms for a little while.

But a painkiller was still better than nothing. With the buffer in place, he couldn’t _hear_ Lucifer anymore, only see him, always just behind whatever he was looking at, and he could have cried with relief.

At last, the boiling water completely receded, leaving Sam cold and a little shaky. He felt Judas’ hand slip away as the Weapon quietly crumpled beside him.

“Shit!” He grabbed for him--and missed. Judas landed on the carpet with a dull thump.

Lucifer stopped pounding on the glass long enough to point and laugh at them. Sam ignored him.

“Sorry,” he said to Judas. “Maybe it’s...is this just an echo?”

But when he still wasn’t moving after a few seconds, Sam knew it was more than that. His heart sinking, he checked Judas’ pulse--it was there; of course it was there, _how_ many times had Judas told them he couldn’t die?

“Come on,” he said, shaking Judas a little. “Come on, wake up…”

No response, not even when he grabbed his iPod, gave Judas the earbuds, and turned the volume up all the way.

“ _Shit._ Shit, I’m sorry,” he said again.

Judas didn’t _seem_ hurt, which probably meant he’d just--pushed too hard, and then passed out. Or something. Hopefully that was all it meant, anyway. Sam took a deep breath, and very, very carefully picked Judas up and settled him on the bed, where hopefully he’d be at least a little less uncomfortable when he woke up. _Please wake up soon,_ he thought, sitting in the chair and pressing his hand again--inaudible and easier to ignore or not, Lucifer in his glass box in the corner was still...still there.

Sam tried to fill the time with research, but couldn’t focus at all. He kept glancing over at the unconscious Weapon every few seconds, completely losing the thread of whatever it was he’d been reading each time.

And then, finally, a little over two hours after he’d blacked out, Judas finally stirred.

"Hey, welcome back," Sam said, with ill-disguised relief. If it had taken any longer, he would’ve called for help. He got up out of his chair to go check on him.

"Did it work?" Judas asked.

"Yeah, I think so," he said. "Are you okay?"

Judas waved a hand dismissively. "Just tired. You didn't have to wait with me. I made sure the room was warded..."

Sam shook his head. "You passed out trying to help me. I wasn't about to ditch you before I knew you were okay."

He blinked, then nodded. "Yes, I suppose that makes sense."

"Not that--I mean, I wouldn't have left if you'd passed out for some other reason, either," Sam said hastily, realizing he might have given the wrong impression. "Just... _especially_ because you were helping me."

Judas smiled faintly. "I understand what you meant, I think. And you're sweet to worry, but I really am just tired, and I would have been safe. I made sure the wards would hold."

"So, wait. You _knew_ you were going to black out like that?"

He coughed and shifted awkwardly, avoiding Sam's eyes. "I...knew it was possible. Healing drains me, especially if I'm trying something complex and unfamiliar."

Sam made a face. "You could have given me a head's up. I probably wouldn't have risked it if I'd known--"

"Which is exactly why I didn't," he interrupted. "Look, Sam, I know approximately what I'm capable of, and I'm usually pretty good at gauging how badly something will drain me. And, at least today, I'm not so self-destructive that I can't trust myself to decide what's worth it. And crashing for a few hours, in exchange for the chance to give you some measure of peace? That's far more than a fair trade."

"Even after all the crap we've put you through?" he asked. Because, as much as he hated to admit it, Lucifer hadn’t been totally wrong. "I mean, it's not exactly like we return the favor."

Judas smiled wryly. "I take it you mean my uncles?"

Sam nodded, fiddling with his hand and looking away from Judas. And resisting the urge to glance over at box in the corner, with Lucifer rolling his eyes in their general direction. At least that was _all_ he was doing. He wasn’t making either of them bleed. Or burning anything. Or...

Judas very gently took Sam's wrist. "Sam, look at me." When Sam didn’t move, he reached up with his free hand and lightly touched Sam's jawline, turning his head so he had to. "They would have found me eventually, if they wanted the advantages I could give them. And even if you made it a little easier for them to do that...I don't regret choosing to stay and help you. It was all worth it."

He shifted, so he was at a slightly better angle to look at him, not quite sure he could believe that. "You really think that?"

He smiled faintly. "I can't lie, remember?" He shook his head, then met Sam's eyes again, all serious. "I do mean it, though. Uncles or no uncles, you are the best thing that's happened to me in a long time."

Sam's eyebrows shot up and he let out a little barking laugh of disbelief before he could stop himself.

"I _mean_ it, Sam," Judas insisted. "You--you're--you came _back._ And maybe things are different, but you're not disappearing, it's _real._ You--I kissed you, I _killed_ you, and you _came back._ You spoke to me. You _stayed._ It's enough to..." He shook his head again, then smiled up at him. "You make me believe."

Sam's breath caught. "In what?"

"Redemption."

There was something about the way Judas was looking at him, or something in his smile, or maybe it was just the way their hands were resting against each other, touching but not quite holding, or...it was _something,_ and it felt right.

Sam bent down to kiss him.

Judas' eyes widened and he held up a hand to stop him. "Sam, I can't."

_Shit._ He flushed and pulled away. _Shit, shit, shit._ "Sorry. I'm so sorry, I thought--I totally read that wrong. I'm sorry. Look, you're okay, I can see that you're okay. I'll just--"

"Sam." Judas caught his hand as he stood to go. "You didn't misread anything, I just--I can't...I don't know what would happen if I kissed someone who isn't possessed. And the last thing I want is to hurt you again, so I _can't._ "

“Oh,” Sam said, after a brief, slightly confused silence. “I...uh, I never thought of that.”

“Why would you?” he said. “But for me...it’s all I _can_ think about, especially when…” He flushed faintly and dropped his eyes to their hands.

Sam flushed a little himself, feeling a soft, steady warmth at the base of his spine that he hadn’t felt since...in a very long time.

But something struck him as a little odd about that.

“But...wait, weren’t you married?” Not that that alone necessarily meant he’d kissed his wife, but they’d had a _kid._ Sex usually involved _some_ kind of mouth contact, at least in Sam’s experience.

He nodded. “I was. And, no, I didn’t choose my wife--it wasn’t exactly the norm at the time--but, yes, I did kiss her--and Miriam--on occasion. But…” He continued studying their hands, and Sam followed his gaze.

“But?” he prompted.

“I think something...something changed in me, when I...when I was first...when I became a tool, after...after Jerusalem,” he said. “I haven’t...I don’t know for sure, but I can’t...I can’t risk it. You understand?”

“I do,” he said.

“Thank you,” he said. “And I _do_ want...we just...I’m sure we can find a way around it, we just…”

“Have to find a way around it,” Sam said.

“Exactly,” Judas said, and visibly relaxed. “Thank you.”

Sam sort of thought Judas was just being paranoid--there was no real reason to think his Kiss would do anything without the right conditions. Still, Judas was convinced it could be a problem, and Sam could hold off until they figured out some kind of safeguard that wouldn’t be too uncomfortable or remind Judas of being bound by other people, for less-pleasant reasons. For now, it was enough just to know that Judas _was_ as interested as he was.

So, instead, they sat there, with their hands still touching and not-quite entwined, until Sam’s phone buzzed and broke the moment.

“That’s probably Dean,” he said, without checking the actual text. “I’m sorry, I should…”

Judas nodded. “Of course. I’ll...I’ll see you?”

He smiled. “Yeah,” he said. “Soon.”

He smiled back. “Soon.”

Sam let his fingers rest against Judas’ for just one moment more, then stood up and headed out the door.


	4. Part 8, Chapter 4: On the Road

**Chapter 4**

_On the Road_

 

It was almost unspeakably hard for Judas to track down his old friends and ask them for favors.

Not because they’d scattered to the winds, or not entirely. And not even because they were violently displeased to hear from him--surprisingly, most of them weren’t. There were a few gods who would have had that reaction even at the best of times (and these were far from the best of times), but he knew better than to call on them. Most of the others...well, they were far more civil than he’d dared to hope, at least where _he_ was concerned.

No, the problem was that...well, they’d all been _Abba’s_ friends first. And, since every pagan god they’d associated with knew the two of them had largely come as a set for near two millennia…

There were a lot of hard questions they expected Judas to answer. And some that weren’t so hard, like ‘was the whole thing a precursor to the angels declaring all-out war on the pagans’ (no), or at the very least had simple answers, like ‘did you know’ (yes), or…

And it wasn’t like this was entirely unexpected. He knew damn well how their old friends had been reacting to Abba’s perceived betrayal since Kali and the Apocalypse had forced him to reveal himself. But it was one thing to know it, and another thing entirely to be a proxy for their rage and asked to deliver dozens of messages, all variations on ‘go screw yourself, if I ever see you again, I’ll kill you,’ to his father.

All of that meant that facing their accusations--even from the ones who weren’t angry with _him_ for lying for Abba--was...it wasn’t pleasant. And of course he defended Abba, as he would until his last breath, but that didn’t make the vitriol any easier to hear. Especially when he had no difficulty understanding _why_ they were angry, and hurt, and even a little afraid.

At least, once he sifted through all of that unpleasantness, the various gods were able to provide some useful information. None of them knew how to kill a Leviathan, at least not yet, but more than one had figured out that decapitation could slow them down.

And what Judas had learned today was _very_ interesting, though it wasn’t particularly useful to anyone but him. For now, at least.

Hathor had called, had told him that Leviathan had no bodies of their own. Once _in_ a body, of course, they could shapeshift, and do any number of other nasty things, but they still needed to secure one first. He had known that part already, thanks to Bobby, but Hathor had somehow managed to confirm an important additional detail: Leviathan lacked the ability or materials to _construct_ bodies.

In short, just like angels, just like demons, Leviathan had to possess a human to interact with the physical world.

Of course, without an exorcism--other than the one Judas had built in, so to speak--that confirmation wasn’t particularly useful to his friends. Or to him, frankly, unless he became truly desperate. Banishing a Leviathan still meant killing the host. Besides, he had to consider the potential backlash, and he had no way of knowing what form it might take. He’d still share the news, the next time he and Bobby compared notes, but…

As if his thoughts had summoned it, the phone rang again.

But, when he checked, it wasn’t Bobby--who wasn’t due to call him for another two days anyway--but Sam.

“Hello?”

“Hey.” Sam sounded upset--not afraid, or sad, but a kind of tightly-controlled anger.

“What’s wrong?” Judas asked. “What happened?”

He took a deep breath. “Sorry. Uh. I don’t remember, did I tell you about my friend Amy?”

“I don’t think so,” he said. “Is she all right?”

“Dean killed her,” Sam said flatly.

“What?” That didn’t sound like Dean. “Why…?”

“She’s a kitsune,” he explained, after taking another deep breath. “She’s a mortician, she’s been--she _was_ \--living off dead bodies, except her son got sick, and he needed fresh food, so she started killing again.”

“Oh.”

“And I took care of it,” Sam went on. “I took care of it, her son was better and she promised me she wouldn’t kill anyone ever again, and I told Dean, and he told me he’d trust my judgment and leave her alone.”

“And he didn’t?”

“No,” he said, bitterly. “I just found out, and I just...he _lied_ to me, and he killed my friend.”

And there was a lot to sort through there, and Judas was pretty sure he was the exact wrong person for Sam to come to for this but...well, Sam _had_ come to him, and he loved Sam, so he had to at least try to help him through it. “Which...which of those bothers you more?” he asked.

Sam paused, took a third breath, and seemed to calm down a little. “The...the lying part,” he said. “Yeah, the lying. I mean…” He hesitated, and when he spoke again, he sounded more less angry, and a little uncertain. “I mean, maybe he was right, about Amy, I don’t…do you think he was?”

 _Oh, dear._ “I’m...I’m really not the best person to answer that question,” Judas said.

“You’re one of the most ethical people I know.”

 _Which really doesn’t say much for our various friends, does it._ “Most of my friends who aren’t you and yours are...well, monsters. And please remember what Abba does for a hobby.”

“...oh. Right. That.”

Judas sighed, and tried to answer the question anyway. “I don’t...he probably is. We...or at least I...tend to forgive things in people I love that would horrify me in anyone else. Perspective does matter. And, in this case, Dean might have it where you don’t.”

“Yeah, that’s true,” Sam said. “He still...he _promised_ me, and he still _lied._ ”

He winced a little, internally. “Was he...was he trying to protect you? Did he think that telling you the truth would…?”

Sam sighed. “I think so. Maybe. I don’t know. But, I mean, he could have...he could’ve just not said anything? He flat-out _lied_ to my face, said he let her go. But...I don’t know, I guess you’re right, it’s not like...he was trying to protect me. That matters.”

“I guess you have to decide, then, if this is something you can forgive him for,” Judas said.

“Would you? If Gabriel did something like this...would you forgive him?”

Judas laughed a little. “What makes you think he hasn’t?”

“Wait, really?”

“Many, many times,” he said. “Usually when I’m more self-destructive than usual and my judgment is obviously compromised. And I’m always furious, but I always forgive him in time. He’s never...he’s never gone so far over the line that I can’t trust him anymore. I’m not sure he ever _could._ But my relationship with Abba is not your relationship with Dean, and I’m…” He sighed. “Even at the best of times, my perspective is more than a little skewed where he’s concerned.”

“Right,” Sam said slowly. “So...so, if you were...when you’ve been where I am...how do you handle it?”

“I stay away for a little while,” Judas said. “Take some time to cool down. Then I contact Abba again, we usually have one last screaming match, and then things go back to normal. Depending on how bad the initial fight was, sometimes it takes a few years, but it’s never been longer than a decade.” He realized, after saying it, what that would sound like to a mortal human, and hastily added, “Of course, given the timescales Abba and I live on, that’s...it’s not as long for us as it would be for you.”

“Yeah, I know,” Sam said. “So, you think I should forgive him.”

“I think that everything works better, at least for me, when I’m on good terms with the most important people in my life,” he answered, after considering how to word it for a moment. “Even when that means forgiving things that would be unforgivable coming from anyone else.”

“Yeah,” Sam said again, then sighed. “It’s just...he promised me, you know? That he would be...he would be my anchor. Help me keep track of…”

 _Oh._ Judas hadn’t exactly _forgotten_ that side of things, he’d just...Sam had asked him what _he_ would do. “I don’t...like I said, Sam, I’m probably the worst possible person to come to for advice about this. I guess…” He sighed. “I guess you have to decide if this...if this breach was enough for you to cut ties with him.”

He was silent for a long moment. “It isn’t. It can’t be. Especially since...especially since he was probably right. About...about Amy.”

“Okay, then.”

“Okay,” Sam echoed, then sighed. “Uh, thanks. For talking me down.”

“Of course,” Judas said. “You know you can call me any time.”

“Yeah. Still. Listen, I gotta go--I should at least check in with Bobby.”

“All right. I’ll talk to you soon.”

“Yeah,” Sam said. “And thanks again, I really mean it.”

“Of course,” Judas said, and let him hang up.

He sighed, and rubbed at his temples. Hopefully Bobby would manage to give Sam better advice than he had. He was still not at all sure he’d steered Sam in the right direction, if only because of his own history and biases.

But he’d done his best, and at least calmed Sam down before he could do anything too stupid. And he was pretty sure he hadn’t made things worse. And Sam and Dean would patch this up between them--they always did.

For now, that would have to be enough.

 

**_End Part 8_ **


	5. Part 9: Living to See You, Chapter 1: On the Road

**_Part 9: Living to See You_ **

 

**Chapter 1**

_On the Road_

 

Sam and Dean were putting as many miles as possible between them and Pike Creek. Sam leaned against the window with his eyes closed, feigning sleep and hoping that the weird aftertaste of that freaking love potion would go away soon. At least the headache had mostly faded, and the farther they got from her, the less his skin crawled.

He was studiously ignoring the part of him that kept pointing out, ‘at least the love potion shut Lucifer up?’

The Archangel was present at the moment, slouched in the back and kicking the front seat in some kind of rhythm that Sam was sure he should recognize, but he couldn’t quite--

It was the freaking _Wedding March._

Sam shifted a little in his seat and pressed on his scar, and the air rippled and the kicking stopped.

“Everything okay?” Dean asked, glancing over at him.

“Yeah,” Sam said.

“Okay, good,” he said. “Look, I know it’s not Vegas, exactly, but we never did finish out our week off, and we’re not that far from Atlantic City…”

Sam blinked, then smiled a little. “Yeah, sure, if you want.” Less interesting hiking in the area than out in the desert, but...well, ditching Dean to do that had been what got him into the whole Becky mess in the first place, so maybe that wasn’t such a bad thing.

As if on cue, his phone buzzed with a text.

_So much for that,_ he thought, figuring it was Bobby with a case--although, actually, Bobby usually called instead of texting, so maybe their plans didn’t have to change.

When he checked the text, it was from Judas, asking where he was.

He texted back-- _Heading to Atlantic City w/Dean. What about you?_

Judas’ response was more or less immediate. _I’m not far. Can we meet?_

And...yeah, _that_ was going to be a fun conversation. _Yes, I almost kissed you, and yes we sort of had plans to maybe see where things could go from there between us, but I sort of got married last week, and…_

“Problem?”

“Uh, no,” he said. “Judas isn’t far, he wants to meet up if I have time.”

“Oh,” Dean said. “Right, the buffer thing, I get it. Yeah, sure, I can drop you off.”

The first buffer Judas had put in had collapsed ages ago--it had only lasted two days, not three, but it had still brought some welcome breathing room. So even if the rest of what they’d talked about ended up not...there was still that.

_Yeah, I can meet you,_ he texted back. _Just let me know when and where._ He hesitated for a few seconds, then added, _It’s been...kind of a weird week._

_Oh?_

Well, now or never. It would probably be easier to tell him like this, anyway, instead of face to face. _I sort of got married. It got annulled, so I’m not married anymore, but it happened. There was a love potion and a crossroads demon involved._

Judas took a couple minutes to text back. _Someone drugged you and forced you to marry them?_

_Yeah._

_God, I’m so sorry. Are you okay?_

That...that was not at all what he’d been expecting to hear. And, for a second, he thought--it couldn’t be real, it was another trap, raising his hopes only to crush him even harder after.

But the text was still there after he pressed his hand, so maybe…

_Yeah. I’m okay. Thanks. I just wanted to let you know._ Especially given how things had played out the last time they’d met face to face. They’d talked a lot since then--texting, mostly, or on the phone when Sam could get out of Dean’s earshot for long enough--but they hadn’t...

_I appreciate it. That you trust me with this,_ was Judas’ entire response, which…well, Sam wasn’t sure if that was a good one or a bad one.

He hesitated for half a second, then texted back before he changed his mind. _Do you still want to meet?_

_Of course I do,_ he replied, immediately.

Sam relaxed a little. Judas wasn’t pissed at him, despite Becky, and might even still be…

He felt his ears and the back of his neck burning, and just hoped Dean didn’t notice.

_Okay, great,_ he said. _We can talk when I see you._ If nothing else, even if things between them didn’t--or couldn’t--move forward, seeing Judas again would...Judas would wash away the last traces of what Becky had done.

_Of course. I’ll text you when I stop._

_Okay._

He put his phone away with a faint sigh.

“Got an address?” Dean asked.

“Uh, not yet. He’ll text when he knows.”

Lucifer had started kicking the seat again. Sam decided to just ignore him as long as he could.

“All right, just let me know.”

“I will,” Sam promised, then leaned against the window to watch the scenery roll by.


	6. Part 9, Chapter 2: Atlantic City, New Jersey

**Chapter 2**

_Atlantic City, New Jersey_

 

Judas had taken extra time and care to ward his room after he told Sam where to meet him. Whatever else happened between the two of them today, he had every intention of trying to copy Raphael’s buffer again. Assuming Sam allowed him to do it, of course, which, given his reaction to the first attempt, was not at all guaranteed.

Well, he could hope to persuade him, at least. And, if he managed it, he’d need a secure place to recover from the strain. His wards would hold against just about any threat, except Leviathan--he hadn’t found a way to ward against them yet, but he was fairly certain they weren’t actively hunting him, anyway. With any luck, he was right about that and it wouldn’t be necessary.

And he had also found a solution to their...unique intimacy problem. A surgical mask should be safe enough, and neither Lucifer nor Raphael nor anyone else who had ever tried to kidnap him had used one as a muzzle. Not that he actually thought it would be relevant, at least not so soon after Sam’s ‘marriage,’ but the option was now open, if Sam still wanted him.

Judas was just putting the finishing touches in place on his warding when Sam knocked on the door. He surreptitiously wiped paint off on his pants, and went to let Sam in.

“Hey,” he said, with a smile.

“Hey,” Sam replied, with one of his own. “It’s good to see you.”

“You as well,” he said. “I’m glad you could come.” He stepped aside to let him in, shutting the door behind them. Sam’s hand just barely brushed his as he passed, and Judas closed his eyes for half a second to savor it.

“I’m just glad we were close enough to make it work. I would’ve tried sooner, but…”

“Time and distance conspired against us,” Judas said, then shook his head a little. “It’s fine, I understand. You have your work, and I’m…”

Sam nodded, glancing around at the wards. “...huh. I don’t recognize some of these sigils.”

“I can walk you through all of them later,” Judas promised. “They _should_ be irrelevant, but I figured better safe than sorry.”

“Yeah,” he said.

For a few seconds, they sat in silence--it wasn’t awkward, precisely, but it also wasn’t the same warm, charged, companionable silence they’d shared the last time they’d met face to face. _Too many elephants in the room,_ Judas supposed.

He finally broke it, after a moment. “I can rebuild the buffer for you,” he offered. Might as well accomplish that much first, whatever else they chose to do from there.

Sam blinked. “Uh...sure, if you think that--um, can we talk first, though?”

Right. Establishing new boundaries, after the unpleasantness he’d just been put through.

“Of course,” Judas said, sitting next to him, almost but not quite touching.

“Um. I just...about what happened last week…” He trailed off.

“Do you want to talk about it?”

He shook his head, and squeezed his scar. “Uh. No. Not really. Just that...I want you to know that I’m not...she wasn’t...I still want to...I mean, with you, I…if...if you still...”

“Oh,” Judas breathed, flushing a little himself. “Yes, of course I do, why wouldn’t I? I just thought that...especially so soon…”

He was visibly relieved. “Oh, uh, no, no, definitely...I want something...something good, you know?” he said. “So, I mean...I guess whenever you...once you find a workaround...if you’re still interested, I am.”

“I actually...well, that’s why I had…” He flushed. “Sorry, I’m awkward at this, I’ve been celibate for...a very long time.” Despite Hermes’ many and varied attempts to seduce him over the centuries. “But I...I did find something, and I had wanted to…”

Sam blinked, then smiled a little, warmer and more relaxed than he had been all afternoon. Something deep at the base of Judas’ spine thrilled at the thought. “No, you’re--so you have something?”

“Yes.” He reached over and picked up the surgical mask from the nightstand. “What do you think?”

He took it from him and considered it for a minute, before smiling again, and carefully settling the mask over Judas’ ears.

His breath caught. “You’re sure?”

“Yeah.” Sam hesitated half a breath. “I can kiss you, right, you just can’t…?”

“Yes,” he said.

“Good.”

Sam bent down and kissed him over the mask, and Judas leaned into it, trusting in the mask to protect his beloved, and it was almost-- _almost_ \--the same. He closed his eyes and shivered slightly. He’d forgotten, somewhere along the line, how sweet another’s touch could be. And this was Sam, who was so beautiful, and so kind, and a bright light of hope, and…

Sam kissed his forehead next, and pulled him toward the bed, and Judas, feeling happier and more alive than he had in centuries, was only too pleased to follow.


	7. Part 9, Chapter 3: Atlantic City, New Jersey

**Chapter 3**

_Atlantic City, New Jersey_

 

Someone was knocking on the door.

Sam blinked, then looked down at Judas, who was curled into his chest. “Uh, you expecting that?”

Judas shook his head, and extracted himself from the bed and found his pants. “No. Did you give Dean a specific time to come get you?”

“No.” Sam grabbed his own pants and his gun, and went for the door.

Judas stopped him with a light hand on his arm, shaking his head. “I’m faster than you.”

“Probably not fast enough,” Lucifer commented idly. He was sitting on top of the motel room’s TV, playing cat’s cradle.

Sam ignored him, and nodded to Judas--who _would_ be fast enough, and could see most threats coming better than Sam could. A split second of warning, together with the wards, might make all the difference.

The Weapon padded over to the door and checked through the peephole before recoiling.

Sam didn’t even have a chance to get the question out before Judas, eyes silver with intent, had _launched_ himself back away from the door, heading for the limited cover the bed provided.

“Leviathan,” he hissed, and Sam could barely hear him over the sound of the door being kicked in.

_Shit._

There were two of them, one male, one female, both appearing about his age, and both carrying guns.

“Sam Winchester,” the female said, with an off-center, sharklike smile. “Word on the street is, you’re quite the prize to take. I can’t _wait_ to get a bite of you.”

Sam didn’t bother to return the banter. He’d found his phone in his jeans and sent a quick SOS to Dean-- _maybe_ he and Judas could take down two Leviathan solo, but he didn’t want to bet on it.

“And the Deathless Traitor,” the male added, eyeing Judas with a feral smile of his own. “I bet _we_ can kill him. What do you think, Charlotte?”

“I think I can’t wait to find out.” She tilted her head back, showing her teeth, and the two Leviathan dove at Sam and Judas.

Sam tossed his phone aside and dropped flat--the bottle of Borax had fallen under the bed somehow, of all the _stupid--_

The female Leviathan let out an annoyed shriek, and a messily severed hand dropped to the ground next to him.

_There_ it was. He launched up and sprayed at the pair of Leviathan. They recoiled back a few steps, the female clutching her wrist and glaring at Judas all the while.

“I can’t get past them,” Judas said, half-turning towards him. His eyes were still brilliant silver, his right arm stained black up to the elbow from where he’d ripped her hand off. “I’m not strong enough. Sam, we have to--”

“Duck!” Sam yelled, swinging his machete through the space where Judas’ head had been milliseconds before, making short work of the male Leviathan’s neck.

The female shrieked again, but Sam beat her to the head and sprayed her with Borax again, buying just a few seconds--

And completely lost his grip on his machete, which skidded several feet away across the floor.

“Fuck!”

“Sam, come on!”

Judas grabbed his collar and dragged him into the bathroom, before ripping the sink out of the wall and using it and its pipes as a makeshift bar across the door.

They were both covered in black ooze, and the room was rapidly filling up with water, and--and they were safe.

“For the moment,” Lucifer pointed out, examining the sink. “And, you know, you’re also _trapped._ ”

Sam squeezed his hand and the Archangel vanished, but he knew that Lucifer wasn’t wrong.

He’d used up all of the Borax, and the only weapon they had was Judas’ brute strength, and if Dean was anywhere close to where he said he’d be when Sam had split off to meet Judas, he was still at least five minutes away, and Sam highly doubted that Judas’ makeshift barricade across would hold off the second Leviathan for long.

“Window?” Judas suggested, slightly out of breath, his eyes still bright silver.

Sam eyed it, then shook his head. “I’ll never fit.”

He nodded, then took a deep breath and clenched his fists over the broken sink’s pipes.

“...Judas?”

He closed his eyes and whispered something, which-- _dammit,_ Sam really needed to learn Aramaic, if they were going to…

First things first. Get the hell out of here without getting eaten.

“Judas, what--?”

He opened his eyes--which were soft and dark again--and half-turned back to Sam. “Do you trust me?”

“I...what? Of course. What are you--?”

Judas let go of the sink with one hand, kissed the tips of his own fingers and pressed them lightly against Sam’s lips--he needed direct contact, his mouth to his target’s skin, for his Kiss to work; he and Sam had gone over that over the phone ages ago. “Then take cover. And you should probably close your eyes.”

_...wait, are you seriously about to--you_ can’t, _you don’t know what kind of_ backlash--

But before Sam could object out loud, or even grab his hand to stop him, Judas’ eyes were silver again, and he was wrenching the sink away from the door. Without wasting time to think it over any further, Sam dove into the tub just as the slightly disoriented Leviathan staggered a few steps into the room, thrown by the sudden lack of resistance.

Then Judas grabbed her remaining hand, and raised it to his mouth, and--

The world was drenched in black ink, and Sam couldn’t even hear Lucifer over the screaming.


	8. Part 9, Chapter 4: Atlantic City, New Jersey

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please be aware that there is some brief body horror in this chapter.

**Chapter 4**

_Atlantic City, New Jersey_

 

Sam wasn’t sure exactly how long it took for the screaming to stop and his vision to clear, but it sure as hell felt like forever.

He blinked and shook his head to clear it, his ears still ringing. There was black ooze everywhere-- _that’s weird, I wonder if there was blood all over the cemetery when he Kissed me_ \--and Judas was kneeling in the center of it, in a solid inch of water, his head bowed. His hair was loose, screening his face, and he was shaking all over.

“Sorry, Sammy,” Lucifer breathed in his ear. “If you’d been just a little faster, aimed just a little better, brought just a little more Borax, he wouldn’t’ve had to do that. He wouldn’t have to cope with killing its host. And who knows what kind of backlash it’ll be this time? More echoes? You could’ve saved him that, if you’d just been a little more on top of your game. Or maybe...maybe it’ll be something even worse this time. Remember what I did to him? How about this, hm?”

Judas jerked, his hands and feet flattening, crushed by an unseen force, and Sam could hear every snap of every bone; he watched, frozen and helpless, as the flesh melted away from Judas’ jawline, exposing the bone and dripping blood into the water.

Sam shuddered and pressed his scar as hard as he could. The room flickered and shook around him for an instant, and then Lucifer’s soft laughter faded to silence. Judas’ hands and feet returned to their normal shape--instantly, and silently, to Sam’s profound relief--and his face filled out again.

But the blood didn’t go away.

He swallowed a sick dread and crawled a little closer. “Judas…?”

The Weapon convulsed, and vomited blood.

“Shit!”

“Hurts...God, it _hurts,_ ” Judas whimpered.

“It’s okay,” Sam said. “It’s okay, it’s going to be okay, I’m here, we’ll...we’ll figure it out, somehow, we’ll figure something out, it’s gonna be okay, I’m here, just stay with me...”

Judas turned unseeing eyes up to him, and--oh, God, he was crying, he was actually _crying_ from the pain. He convulsed again, and spewed more blood, and curled in on himself. “Hurts…”

“Sammy?”

Not Lucifer, not Lucifer this time, it was Dean, and Sam could barely breathe for a second, he was so freaking relieved. “In here!”

Dean burst through the door, gun in one hand and a bottle of Borax in the other. “...holy shit.”

An echo would have faded by now, why was Judas still crying, still bleeding, oh, _God,_ he had to figure out something, what the hell was he supposed to _do?_

“Come on,” Dean said. “Come on, we gotta get him out of here. I’ll call Bobby, we’ll figure out--”

And then Dean was _gone,_ and all in the same instant, Sam felt Judas slip out of his hands, all slick with blood and water and black ooze, and then his back slammed into the wall.

“Hello, boys.”

Sam blinked again, and Crowley was standing in the center of the room, one hand tangled in Judas’ hair.

“What the hell, Crowley?” Dean spat, pinned against the opposite wall and struggling. “What happened to wanting us to freaking hunt freaking Leviathan for you? You said you were leaving us alone!”

“I did,” the demon admitted. “And I still want you to do that. But I made no such promises about our friend here.” He tugged lightly on Judas’ hair, and the Weapon whimpered, another line of blood trickling out of his mouth.

“You can’t--” Sam started.

“Of course I can,” Crowley said. “I do want to thank you, Moose, for confirming a theory of mine.”

A theory--

_Oh, God._

“Lovely to see you as always, boys,” Crowley said, then snapped his fingers.

Sam dropped to the ground with a faint grunt. Across the room, Dean did the same. In the center of the room, Lucifer reappeared, examining the small puddle of Judas’ blood.

“Sammy? Sammy, you okay?”

“Well,” Lucifer breathed, then turned a crooked smile over to Sam. “Imagine that.”

Sam pressed on his scar, and the Archangel vanished, as always, leaving the room empty, except for him and Dean.

“Sam?” Dean touched his arm.

Judas was gone.

 

 

**_End Part 9_ **


	9. Part 10: These Sordid Kinda Things, Chapter 1: Whitefish, Montana

**_Part 10: These Sordid Kinda Things_ **

 

**Chapter 1**

_Whitefish, Montana_

 

“Yehudah bar Simon. Yehudah bar Simon. Yehudah bar Simon.”

For the third time, the blood stayed in its little pool on the coin at the center of the circle. There was no light, there was no humming, there was no Judas.

Sam shoulders drooped visibly, and Dean wanted to put his fist through the wall.

_Damn it._

Punching the wall wouldn’t fix whatever the hell was going wrong, and it probably wouldn’t make Sam any less freaked out, either. So, instead, he took a deep breath to calm down. “I don’t think he’s coming, Sam,” he said quietly, once he was sure he could pull that off without making Sam feel worse.

Even though Dean had no idea how the hell that was _possible._ They’d checked and rechecked everything on their second and third tries; the number of blood drops, the diameter of the circle...and the coin was the one they’d used last time, so they knew that wasn’t the problem. But getting summoned wasn’t exactly _optional._ And Judas couldn’t die, and even if the demon had dragged him down to hell, the spell should have worked. Right? How the hell had this gone wrong? What the hell had Crowley _done_ to him?

“I just...do we not work anymore?” Sam asked, asking Dean’s unspoken question for him. “Did something...did I…” His eyes went a little out of focus, and he squeezed his hand, hard.

_Damn it all._

“This ain’t your fault, kid,” Bobby said. “None of this is.”

Sam didn’t answer.

“My guess is, Crowley’s got him in another one of these.” He held up the picture Dean had taken last year, of the elaborate circle in Raphael’s safehouse. “Far as I can tell, it’s like a Devil’s Trap, but designed for nephilim.”

“So, binding beats summoning?” Dean asked.

Bobby shrugged. “Lore can’t seem to make up its mind, but it’s as good a guess as any. Point is, Sam, it ain’t anything we did, or changed. We’ll get him back, just...not this way.”

“I should’ve stopped him,” was all he said.

“Yeah?” Dean said. “How? Besides, it didn’t look to me like you could’ve held off the Leviathan much longer.” The room had been completely trashed, they were trapped in the flooded bathroom--if Judas hadn’t banished the Leviathan, it probably would have eaten both of them. It wouldn’t have saved the Weapon, and Sam would have been gone, too. Judas had made the right call.

“Yeah, I know, but you didn’t see the…” Sam shook his head. “The backlash was _bad,_ and Crowley’s going to make him _keep doing it._ You heard what he said, back when--you heard what he said.”

Bobby and Dean exchanged a look, and, if the old man’s face was any indicator, he was just as disturbed by that idea as Dean was. Not just because Judas ripping himself to pieces against Leviathan, over and over and over again, was a hell of a thing to consider, but given _Crowley_ was involved, there was about zero chance that would be the end of it. Sam was right; just because Judas had made the right call didn’t make this situation any less crappy.

“That still doesn’t make it your fault,” Dean said, because what the hell else _could_ he say?

“Besides, even if we have trouble tracking him down, Judas is a tough kid,” Bobby said, as bracingly as he could muster. “Maybe he’ll figure his own way out. Or, hell, maybe his dad’ll find him and rescue him before it gets that bad.”

_...oh, shit._ He’d totally forgotten about-- _shit._

“We...uh...what d’you think’s a safe blast radius to _tell_ his dad about all this?” Dean asked, carefully avoiding using the Archangel’s name until they had a game plan. It was _mostly_ superstition, the idea that saying a thing’s name would draw its attention, but he figured--given the circumstances, better safe than sorry. Because he had a feeling that, this time, there would be a hell of a lot more damage than the two of them being flung into bookshelves.

“We’ll call Ellen and Jo,” Bobby said, after a very long, very uncomfortable silence. “Figure if anyone’s in his good graces, it’s the two of them, after finding Judas for him last year. Maybe they can...uh…”

“Yeah, maybe,” Dean said, but he wasn’t all that convinced. Bobby didn’t seem too sure himself. And, even if he was right about how Judas’ dad felt about Ellen and Jo, Dean didn’t really like the idea of dragging the two of them into an Archangel-sized mess. The _last_ time they’d done that, Jo had almost gotten killed.

And Judas had been the one to save her, back in Carthage. And probably she, or Ellen, or _both,_ would kill him if he tried to keep them out of this to protect them.

Shit. They couldn’t _not_ involve them in this.

“I’ll go ahead and make the call,” Bobby said, when Sam didn’t object, either. “Once they get here, then we figure out how to…”

“Make the other call,” Sam supplied softly.

“Yeah.”

Bobby went outside to try and reach Ellen, and Sam started cleaning up the blood and the circle.

“We’ll find him,” Dean promised. “Okay? You gotta believe that.”

“I know.”

“And it’s not like Crowley can kill him, right?”

Sam glanced over at the corner and squeezed his hand before repeating, “I know.”

“Let’s just...let’s just get through telling--passing on the news,” Dean said. “One step at a time, okay?”

“Okay.” Sam shut the coin back in Bobby’s lock box, then turned back to Dean. “I’m okay, you don’t need to keep--we’ll figure it out. We always do.”

Dean wasn’t all that convinced--especially lately, with everything going to crap all around them, and the fact that getting through telling Judas’ dad was a hell of a hurdle even on its _own..._

“Yeah,” he said anyway, and he tried like hell to believe it.


	10. Part 10, Chapter 2: Whitefish, Montana

**Chapter 2**

_Whitefish, Montana_

 

Ellen and Jo got to Rufus’ old cabin in Whitefish less than four hours after Bobby called--they’d been close, thank God, wrapping up a werewolf hunt in Helena. He hadn’t said much over the phone, but he’d painted enough of a picture that they’d dropped everything and driven north as fast as they could.

“Thanks for coming so quick,” Bobby said, letting them in after all the usual tests.

“Don’t mention it,” Ellen said.

“What _happened?_ ” Jo asked. All they’d gotten was the King of Hell had somehow kidnapped Judas, right in front of Sam, who had--well, he looked mostly calm now, but Ellen could read him well enough to tell he was pretty damn messed up.

“Leviathan,” Dean said grimly. “And then Crowley.” He filled them in on the rest of the details as quick as he could.

“Shit,” Ellen breathed. It was, somehow, even worse than she’d pictured. “And you two, you’re okay?”

He nodded. “I didn’t get there ‘til after both Leviathan were down, and Crowley wasn’t after us, just...”

“And Judas protected me,” Sam added softly, pushing on a scar on his left hand.

_Shit._ She knew what that meant. Bobby had filled her in on _that,_ too.

“And you tried summoning him?” Jo asked.

Dean nodded. “Three times. No dice.”

So no help for it now. Time to call in the big guns and let his daddy know.

Jo nodded. “Right. Okay. We should--it’s probably good, that you called us. He said he owed us, when I picked Judas up in Milwaukee. Right, Mom?”

Ellen nodded. “Yeah.” How much that would buy them was another question--and that was assuming the Archangel didn’t just plain fly off the handle, shoot first, and ask questions later. Lord knows she would, if their positions were reversed.

Still, it wasn’t like they had much choice. And the longer they waited, the worse the fallout would be.

“You guys ready?” Bobby asked.

“As we’ll ever be,” Ellen said. “Who’s gonna…?”

“I’ll do it,” Dean said, then cleared his throat and closed his eyes. “Hey, uh--Gabriel, if you got your ears on...we need to talk to you, it’s important. So if you could get down here, that’d be great.”

The five of them waited for a couple seconds, then the Archangel appeared in the middle of the room. He looked a little annoyed, and more than a little stressed.

_Shit._ The chances for this blowing up in their faces just increased exponentially.

“What do you want, Dean?” Gabriel asked. “I’m kinda busy right now.”

“We know,” Sam said. “We wouldn’t have called you if this wasn’t important.”

“This is about the freaking Leviathan mess, isn’t it,” he said. Before any of them could answer, he pushed on. “Look, we’re doing what we can, okay? And I know it was one of ours who set this off, and I know it don’t look like we’re doing much, but--”

“We’re not calling about Leviathan,” Dean interrupted.

“Okay, good,” Gabriel said. “What, then?”

Sam and Dean exchanged an uneasy look, then Sam started. “Something...happened. It got…”

“Spit it out, Sam, I don’t have all day. What the hell _happened?_ ”

Jo answered for him. “Sam and Judas were attacked.”

Gabriel went still. “What.”

“Leviathan,” Sam said, squeezing his hand again. “There were two of them, and we...I decapitated one, and...and Judas banished the other, but then...but then the backlash hit, and...and…”

“And then Crowley showed up,” Dean finished for him. “And took him.”

For an eternal heartbeat, the room was dead silent.

Then, “You _lost_ him?”

The Archangel’s voice was like thunder, and Ellen felt a primal urge to cower, to flee, to kneel at the feet of this ancient, nigh-omnipotent being and beg for her life.

But her daughter was here, and the boys, and--hell, it wasn’t on them, what had happened to Judas. Crowley was the goddamned King of Hell, and from the way Dean had described the scene…

So, instead of dropping to her knees or making for the door, she straightened her spine and looked the Archangel right in the eye, stepping between him and the kids. “It ain’t their _fault,_ ” she said. “And pitching a fit like this ain’t gonna help bring your boy home safe, is it?”

The others tensed behind her, and she could hardly blame them--the Archangel’s rage was still shaking the room, and here she was, getting right up in his face. Which was probably about the _stupidest_ damn thing she could have done, all things considered, but he was putting her kids in danger. World-shattering power or not, she wasn’t about to take that lying down.

He stared back at her, as if she was an ant on his boot that got uppity at him, like he couldn’t decide if she was worth crushing or not.

She took a deep breath and held her ground. “What’ll smiting us solve, huh? Nothing. We’re his _friends,_ Gabriel. You think we’re not torn up about this whole mess enough? You think we don’t want him back near as bad as you? And, hell, even if I _didn’t_ like him, I owe your kid _everything._ And none of this was on purpose, not on our end of things. So blame the right person, and stop lashing out at the people who want to _help._ Take a breath, calm the hell down, and let’s figure out how to save him, okay?”

For an instant, something in the Archangel’s golden eyes shifted, somewhere between nonplussed and almost ashamed, grieved and scared and still a bit pissed.

Then the wind died down, and he vanished.

For a long moment, nobody dared to move. They all hardly dared to _breathe._

“Everyone okay?” Bobby finally asked, breaking the silence.

“...what the hell just happened?” Sam said.

“Is..is he...a-are we…?” Jo said, at near the same time, her voice shaking more than a little.

“Did...did you just Mom Voice a freaking _Archangel?_ ” Dean asked.

And, like that, whatever the hell adrenaline had let her stare him down left her, and Ellen sagged against the wall. “ _Hell._ ”

“That was...holy _crap,_ Mom,” Jo said, coming over and hugging her close. Ellen held her tight. They were both shaking a little now.

“What the hell were you thinking?” Bobby asked.

“Hell if I know,” she said. Well, she _did_ know, but without the active adrenaline backing it up, her reasons didn’t quite outweigh the stupidity of it anymore. “Does it matter? He didn’t kill any of us.”

“Fair enough,” he said. “Still a stupid thing to do.”

“Believe me, I know.”

“So...what happens now?” Jo asked, after a beat.

“We hope like hell Gabriel stays calm,” Ellen said. “And we try to find Judas in the meantime. What can Jo and me do to help?”

Sam and Dean exchanged a look. “For now, just...keep your ears open,” Sam finally said. “We don’t...we don’t have enough of a clean piece of him to try a tracking spell, a-and summoning him won’t work, so…”

“All right,” Ellen said. “We’ll touch base if we hear anything. From Gabriel, too.” Not that she thought he’d contact her--and it would probably be safer if he didn’t--but just in case.

“I’ll see if I can get ahold of his cousin, too,” Bobby said. “Find out if she knows anything. Or is willing to talk.”

“Worth a shot,” Dean said.

Ellen nodded. “Yeah.”

Hopefully, one of them would turn something up soon, ‘cause the longer Crowley held on to Judas…

_We’ll find him,_ she thought. _Sooner or later. Crowley can’t hide him forever. We will find him._

But with all the potential Heaven and Hell that could rain down on them in the meantime, the reassurance felt hollow even inside her own head.


	11. Part 10, Chapter 3: Undisclosed Location

**Chapter 3**

_Undisclosed Location_

 

Judas woke somewhere cool and soft, with the sharp, stabbing pain inside him replaced by a dull, nauseating ache. He opened his eyes, and found himself in a bed, in a round, windowless room about ten feet across. It was illuminated by a soft blue light with no identifiable source. The floor was pale grey marble, inlaid with an elaborate binding circle. An exact copy of the circle was painted on the ceiling.

It was, Judas realized, the same one Raphael had used to keep him trapped.

He shivered, and tried to remember what had happened, who could possibly be holding him. He remembered the Leviathan, and kissing it, and then the _pain,_ like a thousand knives to the gut, like Michael’s tree, and then Sam panicking, and then Dean had shown up and then Sam had been _gone_ and then--

"Good morning, Yehudah."

Crowley.

"Good morning," he replied cautiously. This had the potential to go very bad very quickly. At best, Crowley wanted him on hand to keep Heaven, under Abba's leadership, from interfering overmuch with Hell. In that case, Judas would probably remain unharmed, so long as no one made any sudden, violent gestures before a proper escape or rescue could be organized.

On the other hand, Crowley was a very young demon who had made a very quick rise to the top. Judas _highly_ doubted he was in for the best case scenario.

"You seem suspicious," the demon said.

"You bound me," Judas pointed out.

"Ah, yes, that." Crowley smiled slightly. "Well, I couldn't risk anyone summoning you away before we had a chance to talk, now could I."

He arched an eyebrow. "To talk? About what?"

"I have a proposition for you," Crowley said, pouring two glasses of Scotch and sliding one into the circle at Judas.

He ignored the glass--as a rule, he didn't drink except at Easter; and, even if he did, he wasn't about to trust anything Crowley offered until he had a better grasp of exactly what the demon wanted from him. "You want to make a deal with _me?_ That's a bit...risky, isn't it?" Not that Judas ever would--he wasn’t even entirely sure he _could_ \--but whatever Crowley was willing to risk buying…

He needed more information. That meant playing along for now.

"Your concern warms my heart," he said dryly. "But it needn't be that direct." He pulled a scroll out of his inside jacket pocket. "All on paper."

Judas eyed the scroll. "Not that I'm saying I'll agree, but what sort of...proposition did you have in mind?" He guessed he could afford to be a little assertive in these negotiations--whatever Crowley wanted from him, it was _specific,_ and something the demon thought he could gain with some measure of civility. Even something he _wanted_ to gain with some measure of civility, since he was starting there.

Besides, the demon was hardly Lucifer, able to overwhelm Judas completely with toxic sympathy. And Judas may not have been a crossroads demon, whose very existence was founded on negotiation, but he had spent centuries with Loki Silvertongue and Hermes, God of Lawyers. If nothing else, he could probably manage to make sure Crowley didn't screw him over _too_ thoroughly.

And, depending on what the demon wanted, if Judas played his cards right, he might even be able to bargain for his freedom. Demons or no, Judas would vastly prefer his escape be bloodless. If only for their hosts’ sakes.

Crowley smiled at him. "I'm sure you're aware that I'm not overly fond of angels. Or nephilim, for that matter. Nothing personal, Yehudah, we just have certain fundamental, insurmountable differences in our species."

Judas didn't bother responding. Clearly, the demon was building up to something. Either that, or he just liked hearing himself talk.

"But," Crowley continued, "I utterly _loathe_ the Leviathans, enough to seriously consider any ally that might give me an edge, whatever his origins. And you, Yehudah, seem to be the only game in town that has any long-term effect on the bastards."

He rested an uneasy hand on his abdomen, recalling the pain when he'd kissed the Leviathan before. "Maybe," he acknowledged. "But you saw the...side effects." Less distressing than echoes, maybe, since the pain was purely physical, but longer-lasting when they hit and harder to work around. True, it didn’t seem to be recurring in the same way--at least not yet--but still.

Crowley smirked. "I can take care of that."

"How?" he asked. "Demons can't heal."

"Not by ourselves, no," he pointed out.

"We've already established that you won't buy my soul." _Assuming I even have a soul to sell._ Humans had souls, but angels didn’t; none of his research agreed on which parent nephilim took after, and he’d never had the heart to ask Abba directly.

"Not _yours,_ no," he said.

Judas stiffened. "What are you talking about?"

He held up a finger. "One little clause, added to someone else's contract. The Leviathan departs, the damage from the backlash is erased...everybody wins."

He recoiled, backing as far from the demon king as the circle would let him. "You can't do that. You can't _possibly..._ "

"Don't fret," Crowley said. "The soul's already bought and paid for. You won't be hurting anyone. All I'm doing is throwing in a bonus."

Judas swallowed back bile. What Crowley was saying made a certain amount of sense, but the idea of profiting from a demon deal, even one already made, sickened him. The worst part was, the way Crowley was talking, he already knew for sure it would--

His pain from the earlier backlash. The way it had faded. The way it was--

"You've already done it."

Crowley shrugged. "You were incoherent with pain and you vomited on my shoes. Not precisely conducive to negotiations."

Judas' mind whirled, as he considered his options. He could do the simply right thing and flatly refuse this bargain--refuse to play Crowley's game, refuse to banish Leviathan on command, refuse to profit from someone else's damnation. That would be the right thing to do--the righteous thing to do.

But it would accomplish exactly nothing.

Crowley had him, completely. Judas couldn't break free of the traps. Rescue would be a long time coming--he had no idea where he was, and he couldn't be summoned while bound, and his ribs were still warded. Besides, even if they weren't, Crowley had almost certainly put considerable effort into making this place an angelic blind spot, and likely warded his dreams as well. Flat refusal might make him feel Righteous, but Judas had a feeling that, if the carrot failed, Crowley would bring out the stick. One way or another, he would be brought to heel.

And then there was the fact that, if he were free, he would probably be doing exactly what Crowley was asking anyway--banishing Leviathan. They needed to be gone, and, based on the two he’d seen in the motel, their hosts were already dead; if not immediately on possession, then as soon as the creatures changed shape. That part posed no dilemma.

The problem--the entire problem--was Crowley's way of managing the backlash. And while Judas could make a point of refusing the offer, he couldn't stop the demon from proceeding anyway. And since there were legions of the creatures out there and Judas simply couldn't function through the backlash...

He was cornered. He had no choice but to agree. His only advantage was that Crowley seemed to want this resolved civilly. If he played along, Judas might be able to win a few concessions from the demon king, and make this whole scenario somehow a little less vile.

He took a deep breath. "If I agree--and I'm not saying I do--" _Yet._ "--I have a few conditions."

Crowley smiled at him, sharklike, because he probably knew--and probably knew that Judas knew--he'd won. "Of course," he said, unrolling the scroll with a flick of his wrist. "Shall we begin?"

"First--aside from the implicit blackmail in holding me--you can't use me against Abba, or any other angel." He stopped before adding Sam, or Bobby or Ellen or Jo or Dean, to that list. Best not to give Crowley further ammunition.

The demon arched an eyebrow. "Reasonable enough." He made a note on the scroll. "Of course, you'll extend my boys the same courtesy."

"I reserve the right to defend myself," Judas replied.

"Yehudah, darling, you wound me," Crowley said.

It made him more than a little uncomfortable, the way Crowley kept insisting on using his true name. _No one_ did that these days. Even Judas barely thought of himself as Yehudah bar Simon anymore. He’d been living too long under his Hellenized, Anglicized name. And, whether the insistent terminology came from Crowley's desire to flatter him or a desire to dominate him...either way, Judas didn't like it.

He shook his head, squelching that unease as best he could. "Even if I trusted you," _which I don't,_ "I'm well aware that demons can get...overzealous. I reserve the right to defend myself."

The demon king was silent for a moment, then said, "Fine. But I want your word you won't try to escape."

Judas arched an eyebrow. "I can't, not by myself. I'll give my word not to entice anyone to help me, but I won't promise not to participate if someone comes for me."

"That would be trying to escape."

"No, it's defending myself and my allies." Judas shrugged. "I won't tell anyone where to find me, but if they manage this place on their own..."

Crowley was silent for a moment, considering.

"Do you have so little faith in your security, Your Majesty?"

The demon bared his teeth. "Fine. But you will do nothing until you can actually _see_ them."

"I'll know they're here before then," Judas protested.

"Line of sight, Yehudah, and _direct,_ or you don't get to participate at all."

It was the best he could hope for. He knew enough about negotiations to know he'd pushed as hard as he could.

He took a deep breath. "All right. Let me read the contract, and if I don't have any more objections..." He closed his eyes and swallowed his rising nausea. "I'll sign."

 

**_End Part 10_ **


	12. Part 11: Never Thought I Would Come to This, Chapter 1: Lake Odessa, Michigan

**_Part 11: Never Thought I Would Come to This_ **

 

**Chapter 1**

_Lake Odessa, Michigan_

 

Bobby was dead.

Ellen had replayed the message Sam had left her about a dozen times, but it still felt…

It wasn’t that she thought it couldn’t be true. She wasn’t stupid. That was the life, you made friends and you burned ‘em, or they burned you. Simple as that. Bobby wasn’t any more immortal than Bill had been, or Caleb, or John, or Rufus, or Isaac or…

The list went on.

But, still, some part of her just...flat refused to accept it. Even if, no matter how many times she played it through, no matter how hard she wished for it, Sam’s dull, exhausted message never changed.

_“Hey, uh, it’s me. I...uh, I figured someone should tell you, and I know we should’ve...uh, Bobby got...he got shot, and he, uh, he didn’t...he didn’t make it.” Sam cleared his throat. “I’ll...I guess I’ll talk to you soon.” Click._

He didn’t mention trying anything to bring Bobby back, which...as much as Ellen’s heart hurt to think about it, was probably for the best. People died, and it was awful, but bringing them back usually just made things worse. And God knew the boys had more than enough experience to know messing with death was a bad idea. _She_ sure as hell knew better. Plus, if anyone had earned their place in Heaven, it was Bobby. And, angel politics aside, Heaven was probably better for him than the same old mess down here. Pulling him out would be damned selfish, on top of all the potentially world-ending complications that might arise.

Still, despite all that, despite _knowing_ it would end awfully for everyone involved...for a moment, she almost-- _almost_ \--considered...well, trying _something._ Calling Gabriel was probably too risky; they’d barely survived telling him Judas was gone, and he hadn’t made any move to contact them since. Best not to push, _especially_ not to ask for one hell of a favor. And the options for bringing Bobby back, as much as she wanted to do it, just got worse and more dangerous from there.

Besides, however close she and Bobby had been--or almost been, or maybe sometimes thought about being--bringing him back should be Sam and Dean’s call. And if they weren’t making any moves in that direction, she had to respect that.

She picked up the phone to call Sam, after listening to his message for a thirteenth time. Mostly just to talk--make sure he and Dean didn’t need anything, and maybe find out a little more about what the hell had happened. If nothing else, she wanted to make sure she had all the details straight before she told Jo. Assuming Sam was in any kind of condition to tell her. Which was anybody’s guess until she talked to him, given the mess in his head these days.

He answered on the second ring. “Hey, Ellen.” He still sounded numb, hollow, which was...

Her heart broke at the sound, more than a little.

“Hey,” she said. “I got your message.”

“Yeah,” he said, then just sort of stopped.

She decided to stick to easy questions, easy answers, that hopefully wouldn’t upset him too much or set off a hallucination. “When did…?”

“Uh, about...it’s been a couple...I’m sorry, I didn’t...I should’ve called you sooner, I know, I just…” His voice cracked again, and he paused to take a breath.

And, as much as some part of her desperately needed to know them, she couldn’t ask him for more details. Not right now. Not when he still sounded like that. “Don’t worry about it,” she said. “Is there anything I can do? Anything you boys need?”

“Could you...could you let people know?” Sam asked, after thinking for a few seconds. “I just...I keep meaning to, I just…”

“Of course,” she said. “I’ll spread the word. And...you boys know I’m here, you need anything else, right?”

“Yeah, we know,” he said, and she almost heard the ghost of a smile there. “Thanks, Ellen.”

“Don’t mention it,” she said, and let him hang up before closing his eyes and giving in to her own grief.

Bobby was dead, and no matter how much Ellen thought she was used to losing friends, it still hurt like hell.


	13. Part 11, Chapter 2: Undisclosed Location

**Chapter 2**

_Undisclosed Location_

 

“I have news for you, Yehudah.”

Judas looked up wearily, more than a little uneasy to be hearing _that_ voice. Crowley hadn’t come to see him since he’d signed the damned contract, but other demons had, once every day or so, each time bringing a captive and angry Leviathan for him to banish.

The backlash would hit him like a tidal wave, then vanish--usually within seconds, though once it had taken nearly an hour.

Still, despite the general lack of pain, Judas had a sneaking suspicion something wasn’t quite _right_ here. Not that it really _could_ be going right, but...something felt _excessively_ wrong. He was drained, in a way he couldn’t quite quantify, and, from time to time--mostly just after the pain vanished--he felt like there were sparks dancing between the layers of his skin. It wasn’t _painful,_ precisely, especially not in comparison to what came before, but each time there were more of them, and they felt…it was a constant, just-shy-of-painful tingling, that just drained him more, and made it hard to focus or sleep. And when he _did_ sleep--which, despite how tired he was, was increasingly rare--it was restless and foggy, with chilling and empty dreams.

Something was wrong. Judas knew that. But he wasn’t about to let on to Crowley unless he had to, and he’d let the silence between them drift too long.

“Yes?”

But Crowley frowned slightly. “Something’s off here. You’re not trying to find a way out of our deal, are you?”

It took a few seconds for that to parse in Judas’ mind, but then he realized-- _ah._ If he looked as terrible as he felt, Crowley might assume he was trying to starve himself to death, rather than dance to the King’s pipe. Particularly given his history.

Judas smiled wryly and closed his eyes. “Despite my reputation, Majesty, I am a man of integrity. I am not plotting anything. I am holding up my end of the bargain, and I fully intend to do so until some outside force intervenes.”

For a beat, the demon said nothing.

“Your news?” Judas prompted. He wanted Crowley _gone,_ he wanted to lie down and wait for the sparks to fade and hope that this time, he would sleep right and wake feeling closer to normal. And he didn’t dare show weakness before this creature, any more than he already had, and he feared that, the longer Crowley stayed, the harder that would be.

“Hm,” he said, still seeming displeased, but he didn’t question Judas further. “Bobby Singer is dead.”

Judas jerked, his eyes snapping open. “Wh-what?” he managed to choke out, after near a full minute of silence.

Crowley smiled. “Bobby Singer is dead,” he repeated. “Shot right through the skull by the top dog Leviathan.”

_No. No, no, no--oh, God, Sam and Dean must be so lost without him--oh, God,_ why _do I ever bother to make friends with mortals, why, why, I should know better by now, I lose them, I always lose them, he was my_ friend, _why did I have to_ lose _him?_

“I wanted to tell you personally,” the demon went on. “As a courtesy, since we’re such good friends now.”

Judas shivered, and drew his knees up to his chest. “You’re...y-you...I...y-you…” _You’re lying,_ he wanted to say, but because he didn’t believe it, couldn’t convince himself of it, the accusation became a lie. He couldn’t form the words.

“I’m not lying, Yehudah,” Crowley said, almost gently. “After all, despite my reputation, I am a man of integrity.”

He flinched, as if he’d been slapped.

“Consider this a reason to push forward,” the demon said. “Leviathan took away one of your closest friends.”

_No, that’s not how it works, I don’t want vengeance, I don’t want to live that way, I don’t--_

But there was a part of him, a part he kept buried deep, that was still bitter at all the injustice he’d been served over the centuries, and right now, he was too tired to beat it down properly. Especially with Crowley gently nudging him towards embracing it.

Just like Lucifer had.

“Leave me alone,” he said, hoarsely, closing his eyes tight again and just barely restraining himself from doing or saying something he’d regret later. “Just...just leave me alone.”

Crowley didn’t answer, but after a few seconds, he heard the demon turn and walk away.

When the sound faded, he rested his aching head against the cool stone floor, feeling all those needles dancing, and an echo just starting to build at the base of his skull.

Silent, weary, and alone, Judas wept.


	14. Part 11, Chapter 3: Whitefish, Montana

**Chapter 3**

_Whitefish, Montana_

 

Dean dropped his phone and put his head in his hands. He'd called everyone he could think of who might have some kind of lead on how to fix the mess in Sam’s head--their surviving friends who might know something, friends who probably wouldn't...hell, he'd even tried people who the best he could say was they probably wouldn't try to shoot him through the phone.

No one knew anything. No one had any leads. Even Ellen had come up dry. He was inches away from summoning Crowley and offering a deal. He was that freaking desperate again. It wasn't like he had any better options. He didn't exactly know any more friendly angels, now that Cas was--

Well, actually, maybe he _did_ know someone. Maybe. For all their last meeting had been…

_Desperate times._

He took a deep breath and closed his eyes.

"Gabriel," he started, "Look, man, you're pissed at us. I know that, and I get why. Believe me, I do. I'd be pretty damn pissed, too, if I were you. But...I'm out of options here, and if I don't figure something out quick, then Sammy..." He drew in a shaky breath. "You're the closest thing I got to a friend upstairs right now, and I…I need help. So please. Answer me."

Dean held his breath for a moment, then opened his eyes.

Nothing.

Dean slumped a little. He didn't know why he was so disappointed. Gabriel was barely dependable at the best of times, and the last time they'd met, Ellen had had to Mom Voice the Archangel out of smiting everyone in sight.

"Jackass," he muttered, then reached for his notebook again.

"Don't write me off so quick, Deano."

He jumped and turned, pulling his gun out.

Gabriel _had_ answered, and was sitting cross-legged on the table, with a flagon of something golden dangling from one hand.

"Well, it took you long enough." As soon as he'd said it, he wished he could take it back. He needed Gabriel to stay friendly.

Fortunately, the Archangel just rolled his eyes. "I'm sort of running Heaven right now, remember? Takes me a minute to sneak off."

"Oh, yeah? How's that going for you?"

He made a face. "You don't want to know."

Well, _that_ sounded like something the world really needed--more angel problems, that would probably end up spilling down onto Earth.

But Dean would have to worry about that later. Finding a way to save Sam had to be a priority.

"Look, about why I called..." he started, then stopped, not quite sure how to put it into words.

"Yeah," Gabriel said, then passed Dean the flagon. "I can't...I can't do anything directly."

Dean took a sip--very sweet, and blessedly alcoholic. Pretty much exactly what he'd expect from an Archangel-turned-Trickster in a situation like this. "Because Heaven's a mess?" he asked bitterly.

"No," Gabriel said. "Well, sort of. Partly. I mean, the mess upstairs is why I didn't bring a specialist with me. Most of the ones with any human experience sided with Raph, anyway. They're pretty much either dead or in hiding. And the ones who aren't? Chances are, they’d decide the best way to fix Sam would be to put him out of his misery, send him up to Heaven where he’d be safe and not suffer anymore.”

He flinched. _Yeah, that’s not gonna happen._ But that only ruled out _other_ angels, not...

“But what I really meant was I can't do anything myself," Gabriel continued, answering his unspoken question.

Dean stared at him. "You're a freaking Archangel. Hell, you're _the_ freaking Archangel now."

"Don't remind me," Gabriel said, looking away. "But the problem ain't power, it's _skill._ "

"The hell do you mean?"

"That just because I have phenomenal cosmic powers don't mean I can do _everything,_ Dean. I'm the Messenger, not the Healer. Something this delicate, even if I _could_ pull it off--which ain’t a sure thing--would take a lot more time than you have. Like, on the order of _centuries._ " He sighed. "Look, if this was a bullet, or a tumor, or-or even reassembling someone's body from a smudge on the sidewalk? That I could fix, no problem. This?" He shook his head. "You need either a specialist or someone who knows Sam's mind and soul a hell of a lot better than I do."

"Meaning?"

"Far as angels go? Bunch of dead guys and Lucifer."

Dean took another pull from the flagon. "Why'd you even bother coming if you can't help?"

Gabriel shook his head again. " _I_ can't--the angels can't--but I might know some people who can."

Dean resisted the urge to fling the flagon--that was weird, it was a lot lighter than it should be--at the Archangel. "You could have led with that!"

"You're not gonna like it," Gabriel warned. "So I needed you to know why it's the best I can do."

Whatever it was, it probably wasn't Lucifer, and it had to be better than selling his soul again. Dean was willing to listen to just about anything at this point. "What is it?"

"Gods."

"Gods?"

"Yeah." He reached over and plucked the flagon from Dean's hand, taking a drink himself. "I know a few healing gods. I can hit them up."

Well, that made sense, if Gabriel was right and Dean needed an expert. But there were two problems with that plan. "Don't most of them want your head?"

"Sure," Gabriel said. "So I'll start with the ones who owe me favors and go from there. Should keep me alive, at least. Maybe I've got a couple big enough debts to do you some good."

And Gabriel was right about another thing--the second problem was that Dean really _didn't_ like it. He didn't like freaking _gods._ He’d never met one he liked. At least with angels, there was Gabriel on a good day, and there had been Anna before she went all Glenn Close on them, and there had been Cas, before…

On the other hand, working with a god wasn't really any worse than the other crap he was considering, and it was _definitely_ better than the one alternative the Archangel had proposed.

"Yeah. Yeah, could you do that?"

"Sure," Gabriel said, sliding off the table and passing the flagon--now refilled--back to Dean. "I'll be in touch. Oh--let me know if something miraculously comes up on your end, okay? I mean, don't get me wrong, I like you guys, and my kid's head over heels in love with your brother--"

Dean choked on a swallow of the golden liquor. " _What?_ "

Gabriel waved a hand. "Judas plays things close to the vest, but it's pretty obvious if you know how to read him."

"Okay, I did _not_ need to know that," Dean complained, mostly because he was pretty sure it wasn't one-sided. Not that it was exactly surprising—and not like he was in any position to throw stones--he just did not want that much knowledge of his little brother's sex life. At least not courtesy of Sam’s boyfriend’s freaking _dad._

Of course, he reminded himself, that whole relationship mess was all hypothetical at the moment. On both ends. It wasn’t like any of them had come up with any leads on where Crowley was keeping the Weapon, either. _Priorities,_ he reminded himself. Keep Sam alive, figure out how to get rid of the Leviathans, find and rescue Judas, and _then_ deal with the weird mental images.

Gabriel was smirking at him, but he didn't respond directly. "Anyway, all that aside, I'd really rather not die doing this. So hopefully one of us will get lucky fast."

"Yeah," Dean said. "Hey, Gabriel?"

"Yeah?"

"We'll save him, too," he said. "Sam and me--we'll help."

"'Course," the Archangel replied, obviously needing no further explanation. "Once I find him, I'm gonna hold you to that, you know."

Dean nodded. "Let me know if your pagan friends come up with anything."

"Yep," he said. "You do the same. And save some of the mead for Sam."

He rolled his eyes, but nodded. "Yeah. Good luck."

Gabriel smirked again, and vanished.

Dean sighed, took another swig of the mead, and then set it aside and picked up his phone.

He flipped to the front of his contact list, and started again.


	15. Part 11, Chapter 4: Northville, Michigan

**Chapter 4**

_Northville, Michigan_

 

The first time Gabriel appeared on Ellen's doorstep with no warning, armed with a case of tequila and more than their combined weight in chocolate, she had been alarmed. An _Archangel,_ out of the blue, when the last time she'd seen him had been to help tell him his son had been kidnapped by the King of Hell...

But all he'd wanted to do was drink a little, vent a lot, and play darts with Jo. He even let her win a couple times.

The second time, he'd brought vodka and a bag of Skittles near three times as big as he was, and she'd been a little bit exasperated. For all he was one of the most powerful beings in the universe, current commander of the Heavenly Host, and somebody's _parent,_ he did a very good impression of a sulky teenager.

Still, it wasn't like letting him vent cost her anything, and he brought _good_ vodka.

The third time, she almost got the feeling that he actually _liked_ her.

"I'm starting to think that I sort of suck at this whole 'leadership' thing," he said, measuring out a few dozen shots--rum this time--and passing two to her.

"Oh, yeah?" she asked, tossing one of them back. She knew better than to get herself into a drinking contest with the Archangel, of course, but she wasn't about to turn down what he was offering. Especially since, as always, he got the good stuff. And she didn’t have to share this time--Jo was out for the night, with a new friend of hers, Carrie Heinlein.

"Pretty sure no one's actually listening to me," he said, moodily ripping a piece off the six-foot-diameter funnel cake he'd brought this time. "And there's like six factions--that I know about, anyway--all biting at each other’s heels every time I turn my back and I'm almost positive at least one of 'em wants me dead." He sighed and flopped back. "I have no idea how Michael did it. Kept 'em all in check, I mean." Before she could respond, he snorted and answered his own question. "Actually, I do. It's 'cause he had a stick up his ass the size of Jupiter and the best PR this side of freaking Jesus. Who, by the way, refuses to play politics or I'd hand the whole mess over to him and skip town again."

“Uh-huh,” she said. “So, lemme ask you something. Do you actually want my advice, or do you just want to whine about it?”

He stared over at her for a second, and she was sort of glad Jo wasn’t around tonight, ‘cause she _might_ have just pushed a little too far.

But then he shook his head tossed back another shot of rum. “I want to not be in charge anymore. Except I _can’t_ not be in charge anymore, ‘cause there’s freaking no one else.”

“Well, then stop bitching and do your damn job,” Ellen said, reaching over for some of the funnel cake. “Look, from what Sam and Dean told me, Heaven’s been a mess for a while. And since you sure as hell ain’t the same person you were when you left--”

“Oh, so it’s my fault?” Gabriel asked.

“I didn’t say that.” Christ, he was such a _child_ in some ways. Well, she knew how to deal with bratty kids, even if this one could level the goddamn planet. “I just said you _changed._ So you’re not how they remember you--and they’re probably not how you remember them, either. It’s gonna take time for you guys to work out your new normal. Be patient. And stop playing hooky to get me drunk.”

He considered that for a minute, then sighed. “I don’t think it’s gonna be that easy. But...I mean, yeah, you’re probably...shit. I was never good at this part.”

“Being in charge?”

He nodded.

“Takes practice,” she said. “You’ll get better.”

“Yeah,” he said, but he didn’t seem all that convinced. Or happy.

She figured she might need to change the subject, before he got angry-moody instead of sulky-moody. And she _did_ have a question she wanted him to answer. Problem was, it really wasn’t any happier than his topic had been.

But, as long as he was here…

“So...uh, I gotta ask you something.”

“Forty-two.”

She rolled her eyes. “Not the meaning of life, I ain’t stupid enough to think you’ll give me a straight answer.”

“What then?” Gabriel asked, sitting up and pouring another round of shots.

She downed one fast, then said, “You...uh, you heard from Sam?” She hadn’t, not in ages, but one of her contacts had seen someone who maybe looked like him, driving a ‘67 Impala, a couple weeks back in Texas.

He frowned. “You haven’t?”

“So, he is alive.” _That’s something, at least._

But, according to her contact, he’d been alone.

“Yeah,” Gabriel said. “But he’s...he doesn’t pray that much anymore. I think he just…”

“So Dean’s really dead,” she said. Because there wasn’t much else that could shut Sam down.

Gabriel nodded, and poured more rum.

Screw it. She could get drunk tonight. “And Sam fell apart?”

“Yeah.”

“Shit.”

“Yeah.”

“I could probably...maybe me and Jo should go find him,” she said, after a brief silence and another two shots.

“Don’t do that,” Gabriel said.

“If there’s ever a time he needed me--”

“Sure,” he said. “Except maybe he’ll feel guiltier, or run from you--the last year’s been _shit_ to him, even more than usual. Everyone he loves--except you and Jo--freaking _died,_ or worse, mostly right in front of him, and at least once _protecting_ him.”

Well, she’d given the Archangel some tough love, probably only right he should return the favor. And, hell, he probably wasn’t wrong. Chances were, if she tracked Sam down like she wanted to, she’d do more harm than good.

“Shit.”

“Wait for him to call,” Gabriel said. “He will, eventually. I’m sure of it. He’s not like me. I mean, it might take him a couple years, but he _will_ call.”

“Right,” she said. Gabriel was probably right, at least about Sam calling eventually. And maybe it _was_ better to let him set the pace of things. But, just in case, she promised herself she’d reach out if she hadn’t heard anything after a year, no matter what the Archangel said.

“And I’m keeping an eye on him,” he said. “From a distance, so I don’t spook him, but still. If he’s about to do something too stupid, I can handle it.”

“All right.” And Lord knew, whenever Sam crawled out of the fog he’d landed in, he’d probably do _something_ stupid.

Gabriel stood up and brushed powdered sugar off himself and all over the couch. “And I should get back. Played hooky long enough, you know?”

“All right,” she said again. “Hey, Gabriel?”

“What?”

“Why me?” she asked. And it was probably the liquor--she really shouldn’t have had so much--because that wasn’t really a smart question to ask something like Gabriel.

But, surprisingly, he took it well, and actually answered it seriously. “I like you,” he said. “You’re smart, and you respect me, but you still tell me when I’m being a little shit.” He shrugged. “Sometimes I need that. And no one else really gets that balance right.”

“Huh.” Well, okay then. He was a little more self-aware than she’d given him credit for.

“So I’ll see you around. Count on it.”

“I will. Hey!”

He stopped, halfway out the door. “Yeah?”

She considered him for a minute. “Bring whiskey next time.”

He grinned, gave her a mocking salute, and vanished.

It wasn’t until after he was gone that she realized what she’d just gotten herself into--she’d signed up to be the last living Archangel’s freaking _confidante._

_Hell._ He’d better bring a _lot_ of whiskey when she saw him again.


	16. Part 11, Chapter 5: Kearney, Missouri

**Chapter 5**

****_Kearney, Missouri_

 

When Dean finally crashed, he still tasted gunpowder and copper, the last dregs of the specter’s influence.

And, for the first time since getting back, he didn’t dream of Purgatory.

Instead, he found himself on a dock, on a lake, fishing, which--huh. This used to be kind of his happy place. Hadn’t been for ages, but…it was sort of nice, ending up back here.

Except, he realized with a jolt, he wasn’t alone.

Gabriel was sitting next to him, on the dock itself, dangling his feet into the water.

“Hi,” Dean said, warily. True, his last meeting with Gabriel had gone well, but that didn’t mean this one would. Their history wasn’t exactly consistent.

“Hey,” the Archangel said. “I want to talk to you.”

“Yeah, I kinda figured, since you’re here.”

Gabriel nodded, kicking at the water a little, then said, “I want you to make up with Sam.”

Dean stared at him. “What--mind your own freaking business! You don’t get to tell me how to--”

“Because I can’t stand watching the two of you going at it, like this, all the freaking time, okay?” he interrupted, looking up at Dean, face set. “I’ve seen that enough, and I just--I want you to _stop._ ”

_What the--oh, for the love of--seriously?_ “Yeah, well, grow the fuck _up._ This is not about you.”

“And yet somehow I keep getting dragged into your messes,” he muttered. “As if I don’t have--”

“No one asked you to get involved,” Dean snapped.

“Not _this_ time,” Gabriel snapped back, then took a deep breath, visibly counted to ten, and said, “Look, I’m _asking,_ nicely, for you to just…you know you guys work best when you’re on the same page, right?”

“We’re working together just fine, thanks,” he said, steadfastly ignoring the lingering aftertaste of copper.

Gabriel stared at him, raising one eyebrow.

Dean looked away first. Because, fine, Gabriel maybe had a point there. _Maybe._ He _had_ almost killed Sam back there. And, yeah, that had _mostly_ been the specter, but it _had_ needed something to latch onto. Still, the fact that this was coming from _Gabriel,_ and purely because the Archangel couldn’t get over his _own_ damn family drama and kept projecting it onto them, even _years_ later…

“And I get it,” Gabriel said. “I get why you’re pissed at him, and I’m not saying you don’t have a good reason, but...sooner or later, there’ll be another specter, or one of you will say the wrong damn thing at the wrong damn moment, and things will...it won’t matter how much you regret it. And I did _not_ sign up to watch that _again._ ”

“Again, _not about you,_ ” Dean said, because fuck that. Hell, he would’ve thought Gabriel would’ve been on _his_ side in this, since Judas was one of the many, _many_ people Sam had screwed over last year. But, no, it was just the same old Michael and Lucifer bullshit, and Gabriel being a freaking child about everything.

“Are you even freaking _listening_ to me?” he said.

Dean glowered over at him, resisting the urge to strangle the Archangel. Wouldn’t do any good, even if this had been real and not a dream. Except that it might make him feel better. “You know, you _say_ you get it, but I don’t really think you do. He _abandoned_ me. Abandoned Kevin. All because he hit a dog and wanted to shack up with some chick--”

“Watch it,” Gabriel said, a breeze rippling the surface of the previously-still lake. “‘Cause, from where I was standing, it wasn’t abandoning you.”

“Oh, yeah?” Dean said. “And where the hell were _you,_ that you have that kind of intel I don’t? ‘Cause I have what Sam told me, and from what I’ve heard--”

“He broke,” Gabriel interrupted again. “He _broke,_ Dean. ‘Cause he’d lost _everything._ Bobby died, Cas died, _you_ died, Crowley _won,_ I was out of reach and still pissed at him anyway, far as he knew...hell, since you took Dick Roman down with you, he didn’t even have a real target for a vendetta, to keep himself going that way. Look, take it from another runaway. Sometimes, you just freaking _can’t_ anymore.”

And, once again, whatever point Gabriel was trying to make--and a part of Dean, buried deep, admitted there was one there--got swallowed up by the Archangel making it all about _him._ “So, what,” he said, “you’re saying I don’t get to be pissed at Sam because _you_ empathize with him?”

“That’s not what I said,” he replied. “I’m saying that--look, unless you’re pissed enough to just freaking walk away from him--”

Dean’s hands twitched, and it was a hell of a lot harder to keep from strangling Gabriel that time. “He’s my _brother._ ”

“Okay, fine. But you’ve got to realize, you’re kind of getting to a point where you gotta either forgive him or cut your losses and walk away. Let it _go,_ Dean, one way or the other.”

Dean tasted blood and ash and Purgatory, Benny at his side and a blade in his hand, and shook his head. “I _can’t,_ ” he said. He took a breath, and tried to focus on the actual point Gabriel was making. “Look, I get it. Or I’m trying to. He lost, fine. He was alone and broken. Fine. But it wasn’t exactly a vacation for me, either. I was fighting my way through nine kinds of ugly in freaking _Purgatory_ while he got the hot girlfriend and the fluffy dog and the freaking normal life he always wanted. Just because he got shot down doesn’t mean he gets to--”

“So help me, Dean, if you say ‘abandon’ _one more time,_ I will Nick Bottom your ass for the next month,” Gabriel snapped. “Yes, he wasn’t there when you needed him, or Kevin needed him, or Judas or Ellen or-- _yes,_ he dropped the ball because he couldn’t cope for a while, and you and a lot of other people got screwed. So, yeah, be pissed all you want, but for fuck’s _sake,_ back off a little, would you? Stop holding it over his head. He didn’t stop because he doesn’t love you, he stopped because he’d lost _everything,_ and for all he knew you didn’t _exist_ anymore, or you were in Heaven, and as messed up as things can get up there, he probably didn’t want to drag you back down. I mean, yeah, leaving everyone hanging out to dry was a shit thing to do but...I’m not saying don’t be pissed, I’m just saying...I’m just saying it wasn’t ‘cause he stopped caring.” Gabriel paused for a beat, as if waiting for him to respond, then sighed and said, “And, I mean, consider the alternative.”

“The hell are you on about now?”

“Remember what happened the _last_ time you up and died on him?”

Dean stared at him for a second, then said, “Ruby’s dead. I ganked that bitch myself. And no one’s trying to restart the freaking Apocalypse again. ...right?”

“Not that I know of,” Gabriel assured him. “But that’s not what…” He sighed. “You know what? Screw it. I’m just gonna show you.” Without waiting for Dean’s agreement, or for him to respond at all, he stood up and put a hand on Dean’s shoulder, and the dream shifted around them.

They landed in a vaguely familiar town, next to--

Holy crap, that was _him,_ only it must have been _years_ ago, God, he looked so _young,_ and with him was Sam, back when he had semi-reasonable hair, and…

And at the end of the road was the freaking _Mystery Spot._

“...the _hell,_ Gabriel?”

“Shut up,” he said. “Okay, fast forwarding, fast forwarding…”

Broward County blurred around them, and then they were in a motel parking lot, and Dean saw himself coming down the stairs, and there was a twitchy guy waiting in the corner and--

Okay. Watching himself get shot dead in the street was a really freaking _weird_ experience.

Watching Sam cradle him as he died was…

“The hell, Gabriel?” he repeated. “Why…?”

“Watch,” he said.

The world blurred around them again, but not quite so fast Dean couldn’t see what was going on. He could see Sam get darker, and colder, and bloodier; see the freaking Wall of Crazy he carried around with him, with Gabriel’s face plastered all over it.

The world slowed down and stopped, landing them back in the Mystery Spot, where Bobby and Sam were waiting.

“...the hell--?”

“What part of ‘shut up and watch’ do you not understand?” Gabriel said.

Dean shut up and watched.

“Ritual says near a gallon,” Bobby said, and, for a brief moment, Dean was distracted by how _good_ it was just to hear his voice again. “And it’s gotta be fresh, too.”

“Meaning we have to bleed a person dry,” Sam said.

“And it’s gotta be tonight, or not for another fifty years.”

“Then let’s go get some.” Sam turned and Dean almost flinched a little--seeing Sam this cold, this flat, this…

Clearly, Bobby agreed. “You break my heart, kid.”

“What?”

“I’m not gonna let you murder an innocent man.”

_Good,_ Dean thought. _Good, Bobby’ll talk him down, make him see sense, make him stop being--whatever he became._

But Sam’s expression didn’t really change. “Then why’d you bring me here?”

“Why? Because it was the only way you’d see me! Because I’m trying to knock some sense into you! Because I thought you’d back down from _killing_ a man!”

Sam closed off again. “Well, you thought wrong. Leave the stuff, I’ll do it myself.”

_No, Sam, listen to him, don’t let Gabriel get under your skin, don’t--_

“I told you,” Bobby said. “I’m not gonna let you kill a man.”

“It’s none of your damn business what I do!” Sam snapped.

“You want your brother back so bad?”

Dean’s heart sank. _No, Bobby, don’t--_

But Bobby had pulled a knife out of his bag, and was offering it to Sam. “Fine.”

That, finally, seemed to give Sam pause. “What are you talking about?”

“Better me than a civilian.”

“You’re crazy, Bobby. I’m not killing you.”

“Oh, now I’m the crazy one,” Bobby said. “Look, Sam, I’m old. I’m coming near the end of my trail. But you can keep fighting. Saving folk. But you need your brother. Let me get him back to you.”

Dean started to say something, _I’m not worth it_ or _find another way_ or _come on, Sam, you’re better than this_ but then felt Gabriel’s iron grip on his shoulder.

“There’s no point, Dean. It’s just a recording. They can’t hear you.”

“You boys are the closest thing I have to family,” Bobby was saying. “I want to do this.”

Sam reached out and took the knife.

“No,” Dean whispered.

“Watch,” said Gabriel, somehow sad and merciless all at once.

“Okay,” Sam said.

“Good,” Bobby said. “Just make it quick.” A pause, with Sam-- _hesitating, please let him be hesitating,_ please. “Do it, son.”

“Yeah, okay, Bobby,” Sam said, but he didn’t make a move with the knife. Instead, he pulled out a stake.

Dean closed his eyes and tried to close his ears, not wanting to see or hear Sam murdering freaking _Bobby._ Even if he did think it was the Trickster.

For a long moment, everything was frozen. Dean dared to look again, and saw Bobby, with the stake, and Sam--Sam’s face filled with slowly-dawning horror.

“Bobby?”

The body vanished, and the stake leapt past them to where past-Gabriel, Mystery Spot-Gabriel, was waiting in the shadows. “You’re right,” he said, with a faint smirk. “I was just screwing with you.”

“Okay, I think you get the point now.” Present-Gabriel gripped his shoulder one more time, and, before Dean knew what was happening, they had landed back on the dock.

Dean shrugged the Archangel’s hand off his shoulder and backed away a couple steps, still reeling from what he’d seen. “The _hell,_ Gabriel?!”

“Which do you want first--why I did it, or why I showed you?”

“Why the _fuck_ did you do that to him?”

“I was _trying_ to derail the Apocalypse,” Gabriel said. “I figured, if I got him used to you dying, he wouldn’t fall apart so bad when it happened for real. Desensitize him, you know? Plus, I thought that, maybe, if I showed him enough of his dark side to freak him the fuck out, he wouldn’t go completely off the rails. The _point_ was to...y’know, scare him straight. Get him to a place where he wouldn’t be such freaking easy prey for Ruby, where he wouldn’t...I mean, obviously, he didn’t freaking listen to me, so it’s not like it worked, but I did it for a _reason._ ”

“Okay,” Dean said. “Say I believe you. That was still a _shitty_ thing to do.”

“Omelette, eggs,” Gabriel said. “Do you at least get why I showed you?”

He saw Bobby, in a puddle of blood on the floor; he saw Sam, blank-eyed and deadly, sewing himself up and staring at blurry pictures of the Trickster; he saw Sam in his picture-perfect post-Dick life, with his girlfriend and his dog and his no-worries, no-pain, murder-free lifestyle.

And, for a second, next to all that, he saw Lisa and Ben, and remembered how, despite his own no-worries, no-pain, murder-free lifestyle, he’d been a pretty damn toxic blend of happy and miserable that whole year Sam was gone.

Maybe Sam and his dog and his girlfriend weren’t that picture-perfect after all.

But Dean had at least _tried_ to get his brother back.

But he’d _known,_ for a fact, that Sam was in Hell, and if Gabriel was right about where Sam thought he was, he could almost understand. _Almost._

But, still, Sam didn’t even try to confirm, didn’t even _look._ And it wasn’t like _Dean_ had done the whole ‘be normal and happy’ dying wish thing, so Sam didn’t even have _that_ excuse.

“Like I said,” Gabriel said. “Be pissed at him. You needed him, and he wasn’t there. You have every right to be pissed. But at some point, you gotta let it go and move on. For all our sakes.”

Yeah. He _had_ needed Sam--and, even more than him, _Kevin_ had--and Sam hadn’t come through. He’d bailed on everything and everyone that should have mattered.

But Gabriel had a point. Gabriel had a lot of points.

And Gabriel was willing to drop it, even when his kid was one of the people Sam had let down.

He swallowed back the taste of copper and gunpowder and bile, then nodded once. “I’ll think about it,” he said. “That’s all I’m promising.”

“Good enough,” the Archangel said, visibly relaxing. “You know, that’s what I love about you humans. It’s what makes you better than us.”

“...what?”

“You try. You _forgive._ ”

Dean stared at him for a while. “Gabriel, how bad exactly are things in Heaven?” From what Samandiriel had said, things _seemed_ stable, but…

Characteristically, the Archangel evaded the question. “I’m closing in on where Crowley’s keeping Judas, by the way. And I want you and Sam _in sync_ when I pull you in, okay? Whatever your drama of the week is, you’re not allowed to screw this up. Capiche?”

“Gabriel--”

“I’ll be in touch.”

The Archangel vanished, leaving Dean alone on the dock, trying to sort through what Gabriel had told him, as the color leeched from the trees and the ghosts of Purgatory joined him.

 

**_End Part 11_ **

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was a really hard one to write (which is part of why it's a day late, the other part being RL got super hectic the last week or so)...I'm trying not to be too negative on anyone involved here, and if I did come across as skewed here, I sincerely apologize, as it was not my intent (and I'll probably end up having to leave a similar note in Arc 5 or so, when I get to Gadreel). There are some pretty specific reasons Gabriel is taking the position he does here, some of which he tells Dean, some of which he's leaving out for now.
> 
> Also, as you may have noticed, we've delved into Season 8 events now--normally, I do try to give my arcs boundaries along with seasons, but since my AU characters are offstage for large portions of S7, and I have issues with large portions of S8A, I decided to separate out Arc 3 by a different timescale, which will hopefully become clear by the end of Part 12 (the last part in this Arc).
> 
> Anyway, diatribe/disclaimer aside, thank you so much for sticking with me this far. <3


	17. Part 12: Dying to See You, Chapter 1: Undisclosed Location

**_Part 12: Dying to See You_ **

 

**Chapter 1**

_Undisclosed Location_

 

Gabriel snapped his fingers and the assembled components--ground tortoiseshell, rooster feathers, palm leaves, and a honeycake--burst into flame.

Hermes responded in seconds, initially only vaguely annoyed at the inconvenience of being summoned, but it was like a switch flipped as soon as he saw who had done it. His eyes narrowed, and everything about his body language became closed-off, suspicious. Angry.

"Oh. It's you."

Yeah. This was gonna go _great._

"It's me," he said. "We need to talk."

"I have nothing to say to you," Hermes said. "Release me."

Gabriel shook his head. "I need a favor."

"A fav--" Hermes burst out into harsh, bitter laughter. "You have some gall, _Gabriel._ " He spat the name like a curse. "To come to me for a favor? _Me?_ After my mirror _died_ because of you?"

He winced. "Technically, that was my brother..." But even if Lucifer showing up at that meeting and killing Mercury and the rest hadn’t _really_ had anything to do with Gabriel, at least not directly--hell, even though Mercury had been the one to _call_ Lucifer in the first place...it was a weak excuse, and they both knew it.

And Hermes wasn’t finished yelling at him anyway. "You lied to me--to _all_ of us--for _centuries._ You _pretended_ to be my friend--"

"I am your friend!" Gabriel interrupted, stung. "Or I was, anyway. Look, I--"

"Save it for someone who cares," the god replied. "Release me."

_Fine. We'll do this the hard way._ "No," he said. "You owe me, Hermes."

Hermes glowered at him. "Why do you think I haven't come after you, the past few years?" he asked.

_Because you knew I'd crush you if you tried,_ he thought. "The favor isn't just for me, anyway," he said, going for relative diplomacy instead. "It's about Judas."

At least some of the sullen rage left Hermes' eyes. "What happened?"

"Two years ago, he was kidnapped."

"And the all-powerful Archangel can't rescue him?"

Gabriel resisted the urge to strangle his old friend. Ex-friend. Whatever, he just wanted that stupid bitter sarcasm to _stop._ "I can _rescue_ him just fine," he said, trying--and failing--to keep his voice even. "I just can't _find_ him, because the dick who took him knows how to ward against me. Okay?"

"So you need me to do that part."

"Yeah." He tossed Hermes a sheet of paper. "I've narrowed it down to these six locations. Just...check 'em out, find which one he's in, and I'll take care of the rest."

Hermes studied the paper for a minute. "I can't believe you let it go this long."

He bristled, and once again had to talk himself out of smiting the puny, arrogant god. "You think I just started looking _today?_ "

"That's not what I meant," he said. "Just--two _years,_ Loki? You should have come to me sooner."

"Yeah," Gabriel said. "Because I knew for a fact you'd help and not try to frigging stab me." He'd had more than enough trouble trying to gather intel to help Sam. Anyone who thought healer gods were gentle had _clearly_ never met one. And he and Hermes had actually been _close_ before Gabriel had been exposed. The Greek god had a lot more cause to hold a grudge than anyone Gabriel had hit up a year and a half ago.

And the Greeks were _experts_ at holding grudges.

"Well, you're not exactly asking for yourself, are you?"

Part of that implication irritated Gabriel--after all, Judas had lied to the others, too, and they'd been _Gabriel's_ friends first--but, then, Judas had never misrepresented _himself,_ only covered for someone else. Someone who was a hell of a lot more powerful than him. Someone who he was clearly devoted to, for a long list of reasons. And someone who, at least from the others' perspective, he owed a serious debt.

Anyway, Gabriel knew he'd burned his bridges, and he was mostly just glad Judas hadn't got dragged down with him. The kid needed friends. Mostly, he was happy he still had them.

"So you'll do it?" he asked.

"Of course," Hermes said, slipping the paper into his pocket. " _Judas_ is my friend."

He was just a teeny bit jealous, that's all.

Gabriel nodded and snapped his fingers, breaking the summoning circle.

"Thank you," Hermes said. "And...Gabriel?"

He could read a lot into that hesitation, if he wanted. "Yeah?"

"After this, we're done. My debt is cleared and I never see you again."

Good thing he hadn't wanted. "Yeah. You do this, we're square."

Hermes nodded and vanished.

Gabriel sighed and started cleaning up the rest of the ritual--by hand. He didn't do that very often, but he sort of wanted the closure of putting this--his friendship--away. Didn't make _losing_ that friendship suck any less, but...

Maybe in a century or two, if they all survived, Hermes would come around. Kali had. At least mostly. Even if freaking _no one_ else had--all his pagan friends hated him these days, and even in Heaven, things were--

He glowered at the half-cleared mess, and just snapped it away. Screw closure. He didn't want to think about any of it right now.

Mere seconds after he finished cleaning up, his paper reappeared, exactly where the center of the summoning circle had been. One of the addresses was circled in red.

"Thanks," he said, picking it up. "And, for what it's worth…I'm sorry."

Hermes didn't answer. He'd probably already come and gone.

Gabriel sighed, and counted to ten in his head, trying to forget, if only for the moment, how much that hurt. When he was satisfied with that, he closed his eyes to seek out the backup he’d need for the actual rescue.

Lucky break--Dean was actually sleeping, which meant dreaming, which meant Gabriel could zero in on him that way. If he was awake--since his warding was somehow, miraculously, still intact, despite all the crap Dean had lived through since it was put in place--Gabriel would have had to find him the hard way, which took time.

And Hermes had been right about one thing. Judas had been waiting two years. That was long enough.


	18. Part 12, Chapter 2: Lorena, Texas

**Chapter 2**

_Lorena, Texas_

 

Dean was, for the second time since getting back to Earth, dreaming about his old happy place instead of Purgatory. This time, though, he wasn’t surprised when he turned to see Gabriel hovering next to him on the dock, fidgeting with obvious impatience.

“Oh, good, you’re finally paying attention,” the Archangel said, something in the set of his shoulders relaxing.

“What?”

“Dreamwalking ain’t automatic. I have to drag you into a lucid dream, otherwise you’ll forget everything I said, just like with a regular dream. Which would sort of defeat the purpose. At least most of the time.” He shrugged. “But, anyway, whatever, that doesn’t matter. I found him.”

It took Dean’s brain a couple seconds to catch up. “Found...Judas? You found Judas?”

“Yep,” he said. “So I need you to tell me where you and Sam are at, so I can pick you up and we can go save him.”

“Wait, seriously?”

“You’re still warded,” Gabriel said. “Dad only knows _how,_ everything you’ve been through since Cas tagged you, but you are.”

That brought him up short. He’d always assumed that, somewhere along the line, that had been undone. He was pretty sure he’d broken at least one rib at least once since then, anyway, and hadn’t Sam’s body had to be rebuilt from the ground up when Cas pulled him out of Hell? But, apparently, the sigils were still intact. _Huh. Okay, good to know._

But that wasn’t important for the moment. And, since Gabriel had sort of brought up the subject anyway, there was something Dean wanted to ask. “Uh, listen, about Cas…” he started, then trailed off, trying to gauge the Archangel’s reactions.

Gabriel blinked. “What about him?”

“You...uh, you know he’s back, right? From Purgatory?”

Something Dean couldn’t quite read flickered in the Archangel’s eyes, but he just shrugged and said, “Word travels. Why?” His tone was carefully neutral, the kind people only used when they didn’t want to share how they really felt.

And, okay, Dean couldn’t exactly blame him for that, given how things had played out the _last_ time Gabriel and Cas had seen each other.

But, still, justified or not, if Gabriel--and, by extension, the rest of Heaven--was still pissed at Cas for murdering Raphael and all the rest...maybe he was right to stay away.

“He...he thinks it’d be a bad idea for him to...you know, go home.” For now, Dean decided not to say that Cas was as much afraid of his _own_ reaction as of Heaven’s. Gabriel couldn’t give him any read or intel on that side of things.

“Right,” Gabriel said. “Well, I’m not gonna say it’s been easy, cleaning up the mess he made.”

“Yeah,” Dean said.

“And there’s some...hard feelings, and a lot of confusion, where he’s concerned, I think.” Gabriel shrugged again.

“...I’ll tell him he should keep staying away,” Dean said. At least for now. Until Gabriel gave the green light. If he ever did.

“Look, _I’m_ not gonna smite him, or anything, if that’s what you’re worried about,” he said.

Something about that, or maybe just the way Gabriel was phrasing it, didn’t sound quite right, and Dean remembered something unsettling from their last meeting.

_“It’s what makes you better than us. You try. You_ forgive.”

_Exactly how bad_ is _it in Heaven these days?_

He frowned. “Gabriel--”

“And, on the subject,” the Archangel interrupted, “you and Sam are on the same page now, right? You did what I said?”

“We’re not gonna screw this up,” Dean said. And, anyway, things _had_ been a lot better between them since the mess with the specter. If a couple things were maybe not quite all the way back to how they were supposed to be yet…

They were holding together. They were _working_ together, like always. At the very least, they could stow their crap long enough to pull this off.

Gabriel arched an eyebrow. “Okay, good. So, again, where are you?”

Dean gave him the town, the motel name, and the room number.

“Awesome,” Gabriel said. “I’ll be there when you wake up, and fill you and Sam in on the rest of the details.”

“Got it.”

The Archangel gave a slightly mocking half-salute and vanished, leaving Dean on the dock to watch the birds for the few seconds it took him to wake up.


	19. Part 12, Chapter 3: Lorena, Texas

**Chapter 3**

_Lorena, Texas_

 

Sam was still up, hunched over his laptop and trying to find another job for them to work while he waited for Martin to check in, when Dean jerked awake.

On instinct, he jumped a little and had his gun half-out before Dean waved him off.

“Gabriel’s coming,” he said, pinching at the bridge of his nose and reaching for the beer bottle he’d left on the bedside table.

_...shit._ Considering how their last conversation had gone…

“It’s fine, he’s not pissed at us anymore,” Dean said, reading his mind without looking up. “He really needs to stop fucking around in my dreams, though.”

“I told you,” Gabriel said, appearing on the other bed, “you guys are still warded. How the hell else am I supposed to find you when I need you? And don’t give me that look,” he added, in response to Dean’s half-hearted glare. “We’re not in your car, so the poofing rule doesn’t apply. If you don’t want me to pop in like this, you should ward the room against angels.”

He really _didn’t_ seem pissed. Sam relaxed just a hair, putting the safety back on his gun. “Uh. Hi.”

“Hiya, Sam,” Gabriel said.

“What’s...uh, what’s going on?”

“Well, seems to me like you two owe me a rescue mission.”

His heart leapt into his throat. “Judas? You found Judas?”

“Yep. You in?”

He nodded wordlessly, trying for a few seconds to untangle the knot that the news had tied in his head, before giving up and shoving it aside. He could deal with it--the old guilt over the fact the whole thing was his fault, the way he loved Judas, the new guilt over how he’d abandoned everyone last year, the way he loved Amelia--once Judas was safe.

“Good,” Gabriel said, then snapped his fingers. A translucent 3D model of a low, solid stone building appeared in midair. “This is the place. Kind of remote, deep in the Gobi Desert, but I can get us there and back. I just can’t get _in._ ”

“Wards?” Dean asked.

“Heavy-duty ones,” Gabriel confirmed. “Like I said, I can’t get past them at all. Took a hell of a lot of effort and cashing in more than a few favors to get as much intel as I have.”

“Right,” Sam said. “So, can we paint over them, or…?” They had with the last safehouse of Crowley’s they’d raided. On the other hand, Crowley had managed to keep this place off Gabriel’s radar for two _years,_ which was more than enough time to replace them with something more solid. Especially after his last safehouse had gone down.

“Probably not,” the Archangel said. “My guess is the wards--or at least the keystone points--are all carved into the walls. So’s the binding circle he has Judas in, that much I’m sure of.”

“Great, so do we bring a jackhammer with us?” Dean said.

Gabriel rolled his eyes. “You don’t need to take down the entire wall, you know. Just need to break _one_ of the lines in a sigil to ruin it. You can use a knife, if it’s the right knife. And, once you get through the keystone points, I can pound through the rest, so you only need to mess up four.”

“Cardinal directions, right?” Sam said.

“Yep. Only they could be on any floor, and there’s two above ground and at least that many below. And I don’t know exactly where in the building Judas is. And it gets worse.”

“Great,” Dean said. “What now?”

“If Crowley’s smart--and I gotta admit, he is--he’s built special safeguards into his wards. My guess is, angel blades won’t cut through them, and neither will your demon knife--probably, even if you _had_ a jackhammer, it wouldn’t work. He’s most likely built the wards to resist brute-force interference, _especially_ by anything imbued with angelic power.”

Sam blinked. “He can do that?” He knew a fair amount about wards and warding techniques, but he’d never come across a way to do that, other than burying the key sigils where they couldn’t be touched.

Gabriel nodded. “Yeah. It takes a lot of patience, a lot of power, and some _super_ creepy materials, but it’s possible. But,” he went on, “the good news is, I have an ace up my sleeve.” He produced a thin, delicate-looking, jet-black knife, with what looked like an ivory hilt. Both the blade and its handle had faint gold runes etched into them.

“That’ll hold up where an angel blade won’t?” Dean asked.

“Yep. See, the thing is, most angels and demons have one hell of a blind spot--they think ‘cause we pushed the pagans to the fringes, at least in the Western Hemisphere, they don’t need to ward against us.”

Sam blinked, and then relaxed, with a faint smile. “But you’re Loki.”

“Bingo,” Gabriel said, with a fierce smile of his own. “Obsidian and walrus ivory, from Iceland, consecrated to yours truly and designed to dispel magic. I mean, I’m not saying it’ll be a hot knife through butter, but with a little elbow grease, this’ll cut through Crowley’s wards.”

“Awesome,” Dean said.

“I know, right?” Gabriel turned the knife over and passed it to Sam, hilt-first. “Your demon knife and angel blades’ll still work on any demon guards you run into, but you’ll need that to cut through the rest, including the binding circle. Got it?”

“Yeah,” Sam said, carefully sticking the knife--it felt very old, and cold, and was probably a hell of a lot sharper than it looked--into his belt. “Uh, we tried summoning Judas right...right after.”

“Well, that saves us a step,” Gabriel said. “He’ll just pop back to where that was. Is it safe?”

“Should be.”

“Let me put it another way. Does Crowley know where it is?”

Right. They’d summoned _him_ there, too. “Yeah,” he admitted.

“Okay,” the Archangel said. “Where is it?”

“Hunting cabin, in Whitefish Montana,” Dean said. “Same place we…uh, the last place we met outside my dreams.”

“Got it.” Gabriel vanished for a few seconds, then reappeared on the bed. “Okay. I went ahead and beefed up the demon wards, so Crowley won’t be able to get in between when we free Judas and when we can swing through to pick him up. Any other questions?”

Sam and Dean exchanged a look, then shook their heads.

Gabriel nodded and grabbed their shoulders, and, with a rush of wings and wind, they were off.


	20. Part 12, Chapter 4: The Gobi Desert

**Chapter 4**

_The Gobi Desert_

 

They found the room where Judas was being kept before they found the fourth keystone sigil, which meant--crap, they would have to finish rescuing him and get the hell out _without_ their heavyweight Archangel backup.

“Judas!” Sam called, darting in to see him.

The Weapon was sitting in the center of the trap, with a pale grey blanket draped over his shoulders. There were stains that looked like blood and black goo in the circle, but he didn’t seem hurt at the moment. And, given the scene Dean had walked into two years ago, with the dead Leviathan and Sam freaking out and how much pain Judas had been in then…

Dean relaxed a little. They still had a ways to go before they were clear, but at least Judas was intact, even seemed conscious and lucid. It was a hell of a lot better than they’d expected.

Still, despite those encouraging signs, he couldn’t shake the feeling that something was very, very wrong here. And, looking closer, he could see that Judas’ eyes were sunken in pits in his face, which had gone sharp and angular, more than it had ever been before. And the hand he reached up to lightly touch Sam’s face was skeletal, and shaking just a little, and Dean watched a little of the relief and joy bleed out of his brother’s posture, even as he returned the affectionate gesture.

“What can I do?” Judas asked, hoarse and shaky. “Now that I can see you, I can help, just tell me what to do…”

“I’m gonna break the traps,” Sam told him. “Just...just sit tight for now…”

“Don’t worry,” he said, with a flicker of a smile. “I’m not--I can help, don’t worry about me.”

“Hurry up,” Dean said, tilting his head towards the hallway, where he could hear running footsteps. He was almost relieved, to have something else interrupt another one of those moments that made him feel all out of place and intrusive. “We’ve got company.”

Sam nodded grimly and stood up, pulling out Gabriel’s--Loki’s--knife once again and starting to work on the circle in the ceiling.

Which left Dean to deal with their incoming company.

He could see them down at the end of the hall, five or six demons coming straight at them. _Fuck._ There were too damn many of them. But, on the other hand, he had a small advantage in that the doorway gave him something like a bottleneck, and it was the only way in or out of the room.

He took a precious few seconds to drag a table over from the corner to narrow the entrance further, even his odds a little bit. The fewer of them he had to cut down at once, the better.

The first pair hit the entrance then, and didn’t get as tangled up with each other as he’d hoped. Still, only one of them could get in outright, the other had to scramble over the table. Dean ducked under the first one’s arm, stabbing for its kidney with his knife, then went for the eyes of the second.

The second demon dodged, and narrowly missed Dean’s throat with his own knife before he could launch up and stab him.

He had a half-second to get his bearings, and-- _shit._ What looked like half the freaking guards on this place were coming here. And Sam was still only halfway done with the first circle, hadn’t even started on the second.

Okay. Plan B.

Dean dragged his phone out of his pocket and dug up the exorcism he had recorded on it--Sam’s idea, one of his best--just as the next pair hit the door.

This set got luckier, with one of them landing a glancing blow on the back of Dean’s wrist that hadn’t actually seriously hurt him, wouldn’t even slow him down for long, but was enough to knock his phone clean out of his hand, sending it skidding all the way to the other side of the room, and--

With the _worst possible timing,_ in a burst of white-hot light and screaming static, Gabriel’s voice exploded into his head.

_“...came at...stabbed...live, but he...listen...coup, do you...sent him, I...he’s one of...behind this...has to be...no telling who...so you can’t...angels, not...do you..._ trust no angels!”

He dropped to his knees. The burst of static ended there, but his ears were still ringing. Somewhere in the distance, he heard Sam shouting his name, and then Judas, surprisingly bright and clear, speaking a language he didn’t recognize, and then--

The hall outside filled with smoke and half a dozen meatsuits lay crumpled around him.

Dean shook his head to try and clear it and got unsteadily to his feet, turning to see Sam, half out of the circle, and Judas, standing in the middle, his eyes bright silver, with faint, rust-colored flecks swirling in them.

_...that’s new,_ he thought, still a little dazed, as the light in Judas’ eyes went out and he slumped to the ground.

“Shit!”

“Finish the traps,” Dean said, shaking his head one more time. “We’ll figure out what the hell just happened when we get out of here.”

Sam looked uncertain, then pressed his lips tight together and nodded, turning back to the circles.

Dean went over to grab his phone and positioned himself back at the door, bracing himself for the next wave.


	21. Part 12, Chapter 5: The Gobi Desert

**Chapter 5**

_The Gobi Desert_

 

When they reached the place where they’d split off from Gabriel--only recognizable, in the shifting sands, by a flat rock jutting a foot or so out of the side of the dune--it was deserted.

“ _Fuck,_ ” Dean said.

“Would...does this have anything to do with why you freaking passed out in there?” Sam asked, even though he figured he already knew the answer. Gabriel wouldn’t have ditched them out here, not like this, and nothing the demons were doing would have given Dean that kind of issue. But if something had happened to the Archangel, and Dean had gotten caught up in the backlash or something...

“Probably,” Dean said. “ _Fuck._ ”

Sam picked his way over to the rock--at least it was a slightly more solid, more elevated surface to watch for pursuit from. He couldn’t hear any damn footsteps in the sand, even when the wind died down for a bit, so any other advantage helped. Besides Crowley’s guards--the ones they hadn’t already killed, anyway--whatever had sent Gabriel running could still be out there.

“What _did_ happen?” he asked. There hadn’t been time for Dean to explain on their flight out of the compound; they’d needed all their energy for running and fighting.

“He yelled at me,” Dean answered. “Or, yelled into my head, something about a coup, a-and someone getting stabbed…” He trailed off, probably noticing the dark red bloodstain on the rock at the same time Sam did.

“That...that wasn’t there before, was it,” Sam said. Not that he was exactly _surprised_ \--he’d more or less expected to find some evidence of Trouble beyond just Gabriel being gone, but it was one thing to expect it and another to actually _see..._

Dean shook his head. “ _Fuck._ ”

“Okay. Okay, so something jumped Gabriel.” Though what, exactly, could have snuck up on the last living Archangel and drawn blood was _not_ a comfortable thought to contemplate. “You said he said it was a coup?” He tried not to think too hard about how the _last_ anti-Archangel coup in Heaven had played out, and steadfastly ignored his left hand suddenly itching.

“I think so? There was a lot of static, I couldn’t make out a lot of words.” He hesitated. “But...but the last couple times I’ve talked to him, he’s...I sorta got the impression things in Heaven haven’t been going too good for him.”

Dean had never mentioned that before--not even just being in contact with Gabriel, let alone that the Archangel had been having trouble maintaining control over Heaven. And it wasn’t like Sam could have done anything about it, but it would’ve been nice to be clued in. Especially when they were following Gabriel’s lead on a freaking commando mission like this one.

Then again, that was probably Sam’s own damn fault for taking himself out of the loop the way he had.

“So, he’s...you don’t think he’s…?”

To Sam’s relief, Dean shook his head. “He said he got away, but I think he had to rabbit. Don’t know how bad he’s hurt, but…” His eyes flicked over to the bloodstain.

“Yeah.”

Making sure to avoid the bloodstain, Dean sat down on the edge of the rock. “And now we’re in the middle of the freaking desert with no supplies.”

“And the only people for miles around are a bunch of freaking demons,” Sam added.

“Helpful,” Dean said. “...I’m gonna call Cas. He can at least give us a lift out of here, right?”

Sam nodded. “Yeah.”

Dean closed his eyes. “Hey, uh, Cas, I know you asked for space, to watch over Fred or whatever, but...uh...me and Sam are sort of stuck in the middle of the Gobi Desert, and we could really use a ride home.”

It only took seconds for Cas to appear, and Sam relaxed a little when he did. Everything else was still...not good, but at least they wouldn’t have to worry about dying from something stupid like heatstroke or dehydration. “Hey.”

“What in the world are you two doing here?” Before either of them could answer, his eyes fastened on the stained rock. “Is that angel blood?”

“Yeah,” Dean said, getting up and stepping away from it. “Gabriel tapped us to rescue Judas. Something went wrong on his end, and when we got back out…”

“I see.” Cas looked troubled for a moment, then shook his head. “Where is Judas now?”

“The cabin in Montana,” Sam said.

Cas nodded. “We should move, before Crowley’s minions find us. I’ll take you there.”

“Yeah, thanks,” Dean said, and then, without another word, Cas swept them up and they left the desert and Gabriel’s blood behind.


	22. Part 12, Chapter 6: Whitefish, Montana

**Chapter 6**

_Whitefish, Montana_

 

They landed in the Montana cabin seconds later, and found Judas crumpled in a corner, unconscious, where the long-dormant summoning spell had finally brought him.

Sam immediately went to him. Castiel took a breath--something was clearly wrong with the Weapon, though he couldn’t quite identify it from this distance. Thinking that, perhaps, he could help, he started to follow Sam--

 

_He steps into Naomi’s office instead._

_“Leave him, Castiel,” she says. “Your priority here must be to learn what happened to Gabriel.”_

_“But he’s hurt, and he’s my friend,” he objects weakly._

_“You have your orders,” she replies. “Go.”_

 

\--and paused to reconsider. Judas was damaged, yes, and severely. That much was obvious. But he seemed to be in no immediate danger. Whatever had been able to attack Gabriel--that was the far more urgent problem.

So, instead, he turned to Dean. “What happened to Gabriel, exactly?”

Dean blinked, and gave him a look that almost appeared suspicious, before answering. “I’m not sure. We hadn’t finished taking the wards down, but we’d found Judas and the guards Crowley left were on to us. Then Gabriel was screaming into my head, something about getting stabbed--”

 

_“Gabriel may have been killed,” Castiel says, swallowing back a sickening dread at the thought. The last Archangel--the only...well, it might not quite do to call Gabriel reasonable, but compared to the other three…_

_“Gabriel is alive,” Naomi says shortly._

_“How can you be sure?”_

_She simply stares at him until he backs down._

“--but it sounded like he got away, so, there’s that, I guess?” He shook his head. “I couldn’t get who jumped him. I kept losing words, I think ‘cause the wards were so thick.”

Castiel nodded. “That’s certainly a possibility.”

“Yeah,” he said. “I’m just...I mean, there’s not many things that could’ve got the drop on him like that, right?”

“No, there aren’t,” he agreed. “Do you have any idea where he might have gone to heal himself?”

He shook his head again. “I mean, who the hell knows with that guy? Maybe Heaven, except…” He hesitated, then went on. “I don’t know. I kind of got the impression things are sort of hinky up there for him, so maybe not.”

“I wouldn’t know,” Castiel said--he still hadn’t found the will to return to Heaven, and if even _Gabriel_ thought it was unsafe…

“Yeah,” Dean said softly. “Probably for the best you’ve been…” He trailed off, clearing his throat awkwardly.

Castiel looked away.

 

_“Gabriel has not returned to Heaven,” Naomi informs him. “He has abandoned us again. If the Winchesters don’t know where he could be hiding, Judas might.”_

_“So I can help him now?”_

_“Yes.”_

“I should...I should see if I can help Sam with Judas,” he said. It wasn’t like he could do much of anything about the mess Gabriel had landed in, whatever it might be. He had all the information now, or as much as Dean could give him, at any rate, but there was nothing he could do to act on it. It seemed that there were too many messes he couldn’t clean up these days. Hopefully, Judas wouldn’t be one of them.

He crossed the cabin and knelt next to Sam and Judas. Sam looked up, then gratefully stepped back to give him room.

He pulled up a few threads of his Grace and rested his fingers on Judas’ forehead, trying to find the root of what was wrong with him.

What he found was...it was rather difficult to decipher. Something like a tangled mass of white-hot wires, spreading all throughout the Weapon’s body, burrowed into his flesh and burning it, even as it--

Was it holding him _together?_

He hesitated a second, then, very gently, pulled on one of the wires. It gave, without too much effort, but another one snaked into its place as soon as he removed it.

 

_“I don’t...I don’t understand what I’m looking at.” He looks up at Naomi--she seems to know everything, perhaps she’ll know what this is._

_But she seems a little nonplussed as well. She quickly hides it behind her usual unruffled exterior, though, and simply shakes her head. “It will be all but impossible to unravel without knowing the source, and even then it will require a great deal of time and energy to repair. Leave him for now.”_

_“But--”_

_“You do not have the time, or an adequately secure location, for the work that must be done here,” Naomi says, surprisingly gentle. “Leave him for now.”_

 

He pulled back. “I can’t...I’m not quite sure I know what’s going on here.”

Sam slumped a little. “So you can’t heal him?”

“I’m not sure. I think it’s _possible,_ but...it’s as if there’s something twined around him, body and soul, something Crowley must have put there, like an extra layer of structure holding him together.”

Sam blinked for a minute, then nodded. “That...that actually makes sense.”

“...it does?”

Dean answered for him. “Yeah. He could banish Leviathan, but the backlash was…”

“It wasn’t like before,” Sam said. “It was all physical, but it was _bad._ At least from what I could tell, it looked like something was shredding him from the inside.”

“And whatever demonic power Crowley used to counteract that…” Castiel continued for Sam, and then let the thought hang there, unsaid. Yes, it did make sense. Such a thing would have reacted poorly with his angelic blood. Either Crowley hadn’t thought of that, or he simply hadn’t cared.

He shook his head. “If that is the case, it’s been poisoning him, slowly, even as it was repairing the damage from the backlash. It’s not irreversible, I don’t think, but I lack the power and the skill to do it. And an effort on this scale would...both of us would be incredibly vulnerable to outside attack, without extreme precautions.”

Sam nodded, unhappily, accepting that. “Is he going to get worse?”

“He shouldn’t, not without more of...whatever it was Crowley used on him,” the angel assured him.

 

_“Track him,” Naomi says suddenly._

_“What?”_

_“Gabriel will resurface for him, don’t you agree? He has before. So, if we want to find Gabriel…”_

_“Yes,” Castiel says. “I understand.”_

“And there _is_ a slim chance he’ll gradually heal on his own, though it would take years--decades, even,” he went on. “I’ll see if I can bolster his strength in the meantime, until we can find a more permanent solution.”

He rests his hand on Judas’ forehead again and--

\--for an instant his vision blurred, and he blinked-- _What was I doing?_ \--before recentering. It must be Crowley’s poison, interfering with him the longer he stayed enmeshed. One more reason he couldn’t help Judas here and now, as much as he hated leaving him like this.

 

_“Well done, Castiel.”_

_He blinks up at Naomi, who is smiling._

_“Leave them for now,” she says. “They’ll get by without you, and we can’t risk Judas learning of our tracker.”_

“I should go,” he said, standing up.

“You sure?” Dean asked.

He nodded. “I still have...there are still things I need to sort through.” And, given what he’d done to Gabriel, back when...he doubted the Weapon would consider him a friend at this point.

“All right,” he said. “Call us if you need us, okay?”

“You do the same,” he agreed, then spread his wings and left them there.


	23. Part 12, Chapter 7: Whitefish, Montana

**Chapter 7**

_Whitefish, Montana_

 

By tacit agreement, Sam and Dean stayed at the cabin until Judas woke up.

They didn’t talk much, or, at least, not about anything important, while they were waiting. Sam focused on research, making a list of possible cases for them to work once they got back on the road; and Dean took care of all the miscellaneous errands that got pushed aside when they were running around from job to job because they weren’t urgent, but still needed to get done at some point.

Dean _did_ mention the rest of Gabriel’s warning-- _trust no angels._ Which...yeah, they didn’t really trust many angels _anyway,_ but…

He still seemed convinced that something was off about Cas, after Purgatory. Sam couldn’t quite see it, at least not to the extent his brother could, but he decided to trust Dean’s judgment in not passing on the warning. And he tried not to think too hard about the _last_ time they’d called Cas in to help Judas, and he’d told them he couldn’t.

_Trust no angels._

Sam just had to hope Gabriel’s warning didn’t mean as much of a disaster as he was, deep down, more than a little afraid it did.

And then, mid-afternoon on the third day, Judas finally woke.

Dean had noticed him first. “Morning, sunshine.”

Sam looked up from his laptop and saw Judas hovering in the doorway, still looking pretty damn wretched. But he was on his feet, which was...well, it was an improvement. “Hey,” he added, softly.

“Oh, good, you’re all right…” Judas said, padding into the room and perching on the edge of the couch. “I was worried.”

“Yeah, we’re fine,” Dean said, after glancing over at Sam.

“The last I saw, you had collapsed in front of a half-dozen demons,” Judas said. “I don’t...I don’t remember much after that. And Abba couldn’t tell me anything.”

“You heard from Gabriel?” Dean asked.

He nodded. “We didn’t speak, exactly, but he was able to get a message out to me. He said he was injured, and going to ground. He’ll be...he’ll be out of contact for a while, but he’s somewhere safe.”

And, since he only looked worried, not terrified, and wasn’t making for the door to go rescue him the way he’d done back in Muncie, Sam figured they could probably trust that.

“Good to hear,” Dean said. “Yeah, the whole falling-over thing...I think he tried to contact me when he was attacked, to let me know. Angels yelling is...uh…”

Judas nodded again. “Of course.”

“Anyway, when my head cleared,” Dean went on, “all the demons had smoked out. I thought I heard you saying something, and then _you_ passed out.”

Sam nodded. “What...what did you do, exactly?”

“Apostolic gift,” Judas said. “In addition to healing, we were given the ability to exorcise minor demons without the usual rituals. But I wasn’t…” He looked down at his hands. “I wasn’t exactly a very good Apostle, so it...using those gifts takes quite a bit out of me. And I was already….already drained.”

Right. So, not anything they could replicate--which would have been nice, since it had been _fast,_ but Sam hadn’t really been expecting it.

Judas shook off his momentary gloom and frowned a little, still studying his hands. “I think...I think Crowley may have accidentally poisoned me.”

“That’s what Cas figured,” Dean said.

Judas sat a little straighter and looked back up at them. “Castiel’s alive?”

Sam blinked, and exchanged a look with Dean. “Yeah, I guess you wouldn’t know…” he said.

He shook his head. “Crowley…Crowley never told me. And Abba didn’t mention it, either.”

Oh. Right. Judas had...Judas had sort of _literally_ been living under a rock lately.

“How much did Crowley tell you?” Sam finally asked.

“He did...he did tell me about...about Bobby. A few other things.” Judas looked away.

Probably, knowing Crowley, the things that would hurt him the most, nudge him into believing that staying there, under the demon king’s power, was better than going back out into the world.

For a long moment, the three of them were quiet, then Judas spoke again. “I should...I shouldn’t stay here too long,” he said.

“Uh, you sure about that?” Dean asked, eyeing him.

“Like I said before, you don’t need to worry about me,” Judas said, with a faint, flickering smile.

“Uh...huh.”

Sam was with Dean on this one. Judas looked like crap, and he was...the way he was phrasing things was too damn careful. The Weapon couldn’t _lie,_ but that didn’t mean he wasn’t misleading them for...well, there was a pretty damn long list of reasons why he might want to do that. And he’d done it before.

“Really, you don’t. I’m mostly just...tired,” Judas said. “I’ll be all right on my own. And if…if whoever stabbed Abba got away alive, they’ll still be after him, and I make very good bait. The more I stay moving, the safer it is, for everyone.”

“If you’re sure,” Dean said, but he still didn’t sound convinced.

“I am,” Judas said.

“Okay.” He stood up. “I’ve got a couple...uh...things...to do, and I wanna get food for all of us. You’ll stay ‘til tomorrow at least, right?”

“I will,” he promised.

“Great. Back soon.” He grabbed the keys and headed out the door in--okay, that was pretty transparently an excuse to leave Sam alone with Judas which...Dean didn’t know the two of them had slept together. He _couldn’t_ know. So...why the…?

Before he could finish puzzling that out, Judas spoke. “I want to apologize.”

“...huh? For what?”

“Back in Crowley’s compound. I...I made a presumption, which may not have been welcome,” he went on, looking down at his hands. “I was just...so very glad to see you, and I wasn’t sure if I was dreaming, or…”

Sam flushed. “You didn’t...you weren’t…” He trailed off, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly. “I guess...I guess Crowley told you about Amelia.” And he and Amelia had broken up, or at least mostly broken up, or...the whole situation was a mess, and the more he tried to fix it, the more of a mess he made.

Story of his life.

Judas nodded once, but didn’t look up. “Is she...are you happy with her? Does she make you happy?”

He nodded, then remember Judas wasn’t look at him. “Yeah. Yeah, she...I haven’t seen her in a few months, but...yeah. She made me...we were happy.”

“Good.”

He blinked. “You’re not...you’re not mad…?” Everyone else had been pissed with him, if only for dropping out of contact, and given...given where he and Judas had been when the Weapon was kidnapped…

But Judas shrugged one shoulder. “She made you happy. And what was...what might have been between us was so new, and so...there were so many other...it wasn’t...a-and you...you were so...it was selfish, is what it was. On my part. I should have known better.” He shook his head. “I _know_ that you’ve always wanted a normal life, and I--”

“You don’t know what I want,” Sam interrupted, even though--yes, he did want a normal life someday, but he loved Judas, and he’d loved him when they slept together, but he loved Amelia now, but he--

Judas finally looked up at him. “Do you?”

It was Sam’s turn to look away. “I know I love you,” he finally said.

“I love you, too. I make no secret of how I feel. But I want you to be happy, and I don’t think...I don’t think that I could make you happy. However much we love each other.”

Sam didn’t have an answer for that, other than--he wanted to try, Judas was worth trying, except every time he _did_ try to love someone, it blew up in his face, spectacularly. Everyone he’d ever loved, he’d lost. Most of the time, they went bloody. And, yeah, Judas couldn’t _die,_ which made that at least a little bit less likely, but…

Judas could sure as hell get hurt. He could _suffer._ And he’d done a hell of a lot of that since meeting Sam.

Across the room, Judas sighed. “Look. I know what...I know there is a part of you, however large or small, that wants that. And it is something that I could never give you. Even if I settled into another identity like Simon Goldstein--those take time to build, and they never last more than fifteen years, _maybe_ twenty, before my lack of aging becomes suspicious. And, besides all that, I know what happens...I’ve _seen_ what happens when humans and immortals fall in love. It doesn’t end well.”

He hadn’t even thought of that part. The flipside to never having to watch Judas die was...he’d read up on enough mythology to know Judas was right about that. And he even had that whole situation with Brick Holmes and Betsy a few months back as a real-life example of how much that could hurt both of them.

“I want you to be happy,” Judas repeated. “And if that’s with...if that’s with your Amelia, or with someone like her, then I wish you all the best. And you can always call on my friendship, or my aid, and I will come, unless I’m bound again or otherwise unable to.”

Sam closed his eyes and remembered Amelia--her vaguely antiseptic smell from the clinic (she didn’t wear perfume), her hair, her eyes, her hands, her slightly off-center smile…

They’d had a life together. He could still have a life with her, or someone like her, and be happy. But it would mean losing...he’d end up losing a lot, if he took that road. It had already nearly cost him Dean, and nearly gotten Kevin killed, and…

He wanted it, or a part of him did, but maybe he was selfish for wanting it. Maybe he should let her go, and let that pipe dream of normality finally die and stay dead.

“And if it’s with me…” Judas was saying, “if it’s with me, I will make you as happy as I can for as long as you’ll have me. But...but you need to be sure. You need to be sure that I’m...with all my baggage, with my immortality, with my being the exact opposite of what you’ve...it’s not fair, to anyone involved--to you, to me, or to your Amelia--unless you’re _sure._ ”

“That’s fair,” Sam finally said, after the silence stretched between them for a moment.

“Whatever choice you make, I will respect it,” he said. “And, after making it, you will see as much or as little of me as you want. But...but you need time, to think. And...and maybe I do, as well.”

Because--yeah. Sam might never have to watch Judas die, but the Weapon was _guaranteed_ to lose him.

“Okay,” he said.

“Okay,” Judas echoed, then leaned back, closing his eyes.

They fell quiet after that--there wasn’t really all that much left to say. At least, after a few minutes, Judas drifted off to sleep and the silence felt less awkward and more just...sad. Sam, trying his best to ignore that quiet sense of something lost, drifted half-heartedly back into his research while they waited for Dean to return.


	24. Part 12, Coda: Norway, Above the Arctic Circle

**Coda**

_Norway, Above the Arctic Circle_

 

It took Gabriel longer than he liked to reach his Norway safehouse--but he’d had to double back on his trail a few times, in case he’d been followed or one of his other ex-friends saw an Opportunity. And he’d risked a precious thread of energy to touch Judas’ dreams as soon as the wards on said dreams went down, to let him know he was alive but would be underground for a while.

And then…

He’d hit the ice hard, still leaking blood, and dragged himself the last few feet behind his wards and walls. He’d be safe here, for as long as it took him to heal. He was sure of that much, at least.

He diverted a tendril of his Grace to start repairing the damage. _Damn,_ the son of a bitch had got him _good._ The wound could’ve killed him--probably would have, if the bastard had had an Archangel blade instead of an ordinary angel blade.

But his most pressing concern--more than the pain or the risk to himself--was that Dean maybe hadn’t gotten his message, that maybe it had been too garbled by Crowley’s wards and his own weakness. Because he was down for the count for at least a couple months, and Heaven was…

He’d really failed his siblings, hadn’t he.

And there was no way his failure wouldn’t cause problems down on Earth, sooner or later. Probably sooner.

He tried reaching out to Dean again, planning to repeat his warning just in case, but he was even more drained than he’d thought. He lost the thread of communication before he had even found Dean’s head to shove it in, the message echoing out in the empty air of his fortress.

_“Bartholomew came at me, he stabbed me. It’s bad, but I’ll live, we both got away--listen, Dean, it’s a coup, do you understand?_ Naomi _sent him, I’m sure, he’s one of Naomi’s, she’s behind this, it has to be her. And there’s no telling who else she’s got her hooks into, so you can’t trust_ any _angels, not even Cas. Do you hear me?_ Trust no angels! _”_

With his reserves of power now utterly spent, Gabriel’s eyes fell shut as he blacked out on the floor.

 

**_End Part 12_ **

 

Fin

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And so we come to the end of Arc 3 and, with it, Gabriel's reign in Heaven. Arc 4 is currently in development, and will focus a bit more on Judas' past/backstory. It will cover the second half of Season 8. No promises on when exactly Arc 4 will come out, but at the latest it'll run roughly the same schedule arcs 2 and 3 ran, starting posting in October. I'll get it out then at the latest, for sure.
> 
> Thank you very much for your patience, and for sticking with me this far, and I hope to see you in Arc 4!


End file.
